


Losing my control

by eclectica_posts



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi, star wars last jedi
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dominant Kylo Ren, Emperor Hux, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Hux Backstory, Intrigue, One Night Stands, POV Hux, POV Kylo Ren, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 86,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectica_posts/pseuds/eclectica_posts
Summary: DJ was used to getting out of tight spots, and it was a big galaxy with lots of places to hide.But she takes a job she really shouldn't and ends up face to face with General Hux. A man who never forgets, and certainly never forgives.One night, three years ago. For DJ, a slicer and occasional assassin, it had been just another job. And it wasn't like she had been trying to kill him, so why was he taking it all so personally?DJ's willing to bargain for her survival, but it quickly becomes clear that it's not just Hux she needs to worry about. First Order politics are deadly, especially with a Supreme Leader like Ren, and somehow she has ended up right in the middle.Keeps going from where the Last Jedi ended...NOW KRIFFING COMPLETE!





	1. And there's no cure

**Author's Note:**

> This is a romance, but Hux isn't the easiest man to get to know and just staying alive in the Order can be a challenge. Especially now there is a new Supreme Leader.
> 
> The characters, with the exception of DJ and a couple of minor characters are canon, and I've tried to keep back stories and other information as canon as possible.
> 
> Many huge thanks to my wonderful beta who has taken on a massive task and is trying redeem my awful prose, FluffyGlitterPantsDragon.

The curved glass arc of the  _ Supremac _ y’s bridge provided a spectacular view of deep space, but it was not that image that brought the rare smile to his face. General Hux broke the com link with the  _ Supremacy _ ’s Head of Security. This was turning into very good day. 

 

The destruction of the dreadnaught by Resistance bombers and the painful displeasure of Supreme Leader Snoke had taken their toll. By rights he should have been dead with exhaustion, bruised by the long hours of his vigil. But the tide was turning and with it his spirits. One did not rise to the top without a healthy confidence that order would always prevail against disorder and rebellion. And Hux had never lacked confidence.

 

They would annihilate the pathetic remnants of the Resistance once and for all when the _ Raddus _ gave up its doomed attempt to escape the fleet. That was inescapable. But they had also caught three Rebels attempting to infiltrate Snoke’s command star destroyer. According to reports, they had been attempting to access and deactivate the hyperspace tracker that kept the  _ Raddus _ on the end of a very short string. His short string. They had failed.

 

The traitorous stormtrooper FN-2187 had been found among them, only compounding  his good mood. His escape had been kept quiet from the rank and file of the Order, but Hux ached to teach the treasonous scum the cost of breaking an oath they had all pledged as children. There could be no refuge for anyone who betrayed the organisation that had brought structure and stability into their lives. 

 

Unsurprisingly, another of the prisoners had already offered to betray their precious Rebels in return for a few credits and their freedom. Well, quite a few credits, a smirk curling his lip. But if the information they had offered up proved reliable, it would be worth it. Another indication of a weak moral character, so rampant amongst Organa’s rabble, but to his advantage. 

 

The  _ Supremacy  _ was the ultimate testament to the might of the First Order, and a monument to the power of the Supreme Leader. Its size was almost impossible to comprehend, only the rows of massive AT-ATs lined along the main hangar walls belied its true scale.  Ceaseless jealousy thrummed through Hux. This was not his flagship, but the thought was buried instantly. He was all too conscious that Snoke could detect even the barest shadow of discord.

 

Exiting the turbolift, silent lines of white armoured stormtroopers and dark uniformed officers flanked his path to where two prisoners knelt.  Dressed in stolen First Order officer uniforms, their faces were taut with anger. The woman’s expression held something more; Cold fear. Ignoring her, Hux paused in front of FN-2187, taking full opportunity to bask in the man’s subjection. The traitor hid his panic well, his young face defiant. Hux took pride in his control of his anger and emotions, but in this time, he allowed himself one small exception. He slapped the stormtrooper across the face, gratified by the man’s grunt of pain as his gloved hand made contact. The sound echoed across the open space of the hangar as the crew of the First Order ship watched on in silence.

 

“Well done Phasma!” Hux turned, eyes bright with praise. The chrome plated stormtrooper at his side, black cape denoting her position as Captain, gave a curt nod.

 

“Do we have any update on the information provided by the informant?” Hux calculated the probability that the third Rebel informant had bargained with the truth rather than simply delaying the inevitable. His instinct was always to distrust everyone. He was rarely wrong.

 

A tech hurried up to him, datapad in hand, “General, Sir, on the basis of the data provided we ran a decloaking scan, and they were right. A flotilla of small ships is leaving the  _ Raddus _ , bound for a nearby target location. Crait, we believe.” Hux’s smile returned, the Rebels were doomed. 

 

This was just the news the fleet needed, Snoke needed, after suffering the lost of the  _ Fulminatrix _ . 

 

“They were telling the truth? Well, will wonders never cease Phasma? Excellent work.” Hux spun on his heels to leave. There was too much to do to allow himself time to gloat, although it would be a pleasure to oversee preparations for the destruction of the escape shuttles.

 

“Your ship and payment as agreed,” Phasma turned, her attention on a uniformed figure who walked towards her. They were out of his direct eye line, the dark shape only a blur. As the informant passed, the female prisoner’s renewed struggles against her bonds were driven by a sudden horrific realisation. They had not only been caught, they had been betrayed. 

Hux chuckled quietly as he began the walk back to the turbolift. The naivety of some people never ceased to amaze him. People in their natural state would only be loyal until it cost them their liberty or their life - that’s why he trained his soldiers and officers to fight that instinct of self preservation and place their trust in a higher power - the Order. 

 

“You lying snake!” the female Resistance fighter’s voice was shrill, but the voice that he heard  respond as they walked away was calm. Female, young, and almost apologetic.

“We got caught, I cut a deal.” 

_ The voice. There was something about the voice. _

Hux froze and turned, his attention now fully on the retreating back of the turncoat as she walked towards a ship at the front of the hangar, past the lined troops.

He couldn’t breathe.

Something in the way she walked perhaps, the easy roll of the hips. Like the last time he’d seen her walk away from him.

 

“Guards, stop her!” Two stormtroopers immediately stepped out of line into her path, blocked her exit. The figure halted. Waited, silent and still.

 

“Turn around,” his hand moving to the blaster at his belt, in case she considered running. No one could be that foolish, not in a hangar filled with a legion of stormtroopers.  It would be suicide. 

 

The woman turned, her reluctance visible in the set of her head, her hands raised in surrender. Hux swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. 

It was her. 

 

The hair was different, blonder than he remembered, the eyes that met his no longer brown but a hazel green. Even her appearance had been a lie. 

 

“Hello Hux,” a Core Worlds accent rounded her vowels bringing softness. Three years since he’d last seen her; Three years distilling his hate and his anger until it burned bright like a laser. And all he could do was stand mute in front of her.

 

Phasma’s helmet hide her confusion, her eyes narrowing as she analysed Hux’s unexpected reaction.

 

“Shall I terminate her with the other prisoners Sir?” Phasma hefted her quicksilver baton, the modulator in her helmet not entirely concealing the glow of anticipation in her voice.

 

Hux shook his head. He had to think quickly.  

 

Any other prisoner he would have sent back to the holding cells. Escape from a star destroyer was so impossible that the cells didn’t even have bars. If you got out, there was simply nowhere to run. With her, though, it was a chance he was not willing to take the chance. 

 

A holding cell meant paperwork and questions; Questions he did not wish to be asked. An idea came to him which he discounted, but it returned to it as he realised that as unpalatable as it was, it was the only one that would serve. Until he could think of something better. Something final.

 

“Captain Opan,” Hux directed his attention to one of his private staff, hoping his face would not betray his turmoil, “take the prisoner back the  _ Finalizer, _ in my private quarters. Post guards outside and confine her there. Understood?” Opan nodded, too well trained to allow his expression to display surprise. This was not standard procedure, but he’d worked for the General for long enough to know to never question his orders. Opan started to towards the prisoner, only to find his uniform sleeve in Hux’s tight grip.

 

“Do not speak to her, do not allow anyone else to speak to her,” Hux’s gaze hard. Opan nodded and Hux released him. Smoothing down his coat and cuffs, his self control returned. Stalking out of the hangar he returned to the bridge, the Rebels forgotten. All he could see was her face.

 


	2. And there's no cure

 

_ Bip. Bloppity. Fuck. _

 

White armoured guards marched DJ across the huge hangar to an awaiting transporter shuttle, roughly shoving her forward. Swallowing down a small twinge of panic, she processed the options. Only trouble was, there weren’t any. Another deep breath, heart beat slowly calming. There were always options. 

_ Always. _

The sleek silver hull of the cruiser  _ Libertine _ ,‘liberated’ from its previous owner for their trip here taunted her. Promising a freedom denied by the binders clenched tight around her wrists. She dragged her mind away from dwelling on how things should have gone; Would have gone, except for Hux. He shouldn’t have been there, the  _ Supremacy  _ wasn’t his ship. She remembered that much from First Order job in the Bastatha system. Of course, there was a more important question.

_ And why the fuck hadn’t I asked the two Rebel fighters enough questions to find out if running into him was going to be a possibility?   _

 

DJ knew exactly why - the lure of the money, the challenge and even the thrill of being right under the nose of the Order. Dragged into the shuttle and thrown down onto the nearest metal bench, her stomach knotted in fear. With an effort she shut it down, concentrating instead on staring defiantly at the sour faced officer who ignored her. Fear was pointless. Survival wasn’t a science, it was an art. It took talent, luck and adherence to some basic rules. 

What was the rule of staying alive? Adapt, move on. Years of experience had taught her that.

 

Some experiences were more pleasurable than others. Only yesterday she had hitched a ride out to Cantonica in the Corporate Sector. Now, that was a place for a good time, as long as you were rich and you didn’t ask any difficult questions. Of course, there wasn’t anything on the planet except for the city of Canto Bight; Decadent, full of every way of losing money that sentients could devise. It was the perfect place to lay low for a few days and enjoy one’s ill-gotten gains. Or, even more fun - someone else’s. 

 

The Pinnacle hotel was the finest establishment in the city. The floors, walls and ceilings were decorated with only the finest materials and decorations from across the galaxy. With some element of restraint, it would have been elegant. As it was, she’d been in more tastefully decorated brothels. But it was achingly expensive and that was the most important thing in a place like this. DJ received the sort of welcome that only a very wealthy mining tycoon’s mistress could expect. Laying the drab silver phrik credit card on the reception desk, admiring fingers encrusted with gems that contrasted nicely with the dull oblong. The staff couldn’t be more helpful, although they’d probably be less deferential when they realised that the card, and her entire identity, was stolen. The trick was making sure that happened after she’d left.

 

DJ had the money to pay for this sort of luxury, including the vintage liquor she sipped while admiring the view of the sea from the balcony of her Emperor suite. It was that she just resented spending it. Much better for someone else to pay for one’s little breaks away from the hustle and bustle of slicer life. 

 

The food was as understated as a decor, a hundred rare species decimated for the indifferent taste buds of the bored. After an adventurous tour of the cocktail list in the rooftop restaurant entertainment beckoned. The grandest of the many gaming halls was crammed to the teeth with the overdressed, each vying for the spotlight. Gaming tables littered the obulant space, designed to entice the galaxies richest and most indolent into the sport of losing money. Everyone desperate to be noticed and envied for their wealth and glamour.

But even in a room filled with the most decorative sentients in the galaxy, eyes followed her as she walked past milling knots of guests, blonde hair pulled up with clips of green Corbos emeralds. Their colour contrasted with the gold sheen of her floor length gown, so close fitting it she could only walk due to the high slit up one long leg. 

 

Through the crowds she spotted a familiar face. A man so smooth that one day he might actually just slide of the side of a planet, the Master Codebreaker smiled charmingly as he caught her eye, lazily tossing his hazard dice down the table. For a brief moment, she considered wandering over to find out if anyone else had decoded his personal information from that node he’d placed it in. She’d done it a standard year ago for a laugh, but had promised not to tell, and certainly hadn’t wanted to inherit ‘The Title’ as he referred to it laconically. No, he might relish in playing the part of gentleman code breaker and slicer, she had her own reasons to prefer to sit below the radar. Spotting the rectangular hairstyle of the woman draped over him, DJ keep walking.

 

Why on the world would anyone decide to call themselves Lovey? Beautiful but as approachable as ice, she’d tried to develop a air of mystique by refusing to share her real name even with the Codebreaker. Lovey probably thought she was being mysterious,  DJ figured it was because her real name recked of a Wild Space past that she was desperately trying to run away from. Not that DJ had anything against that; If she was running from her past, she’d be in good company. Regardless, although beautiful, Lovey was decidedly unfriendly and it was wearing to have someone staring at her with a death glare for the length of the conversation. It wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend couldn’t stop himself hitting on any female creature that came within a click. And it was truly ‘creature’, she giggled, remembering that awkward moment on Kuat. 

 

She reached the bar and ordered another drink as she surveyed the room. Nothing like a spot of watching people and being watched in return to entertain. In a room of well dressed people of every shape and species, Bala-Tek still managed  to look out of place. Dressed in a suit of the finest shimmersilk, cut for a larger and taller owner so that it swamped him, the leader of the Guavian Death Gang looked more like a little boy playing dress up than the deadly gangster he thought himself to be.

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

Bala-Tek looked ridiculous, but he was here for revenge and the target was her. A quick glance at the exits confirmed what she had already guessed; Each door flanked by badly dressed gang members, pitifully attempting to blend in with their stolen finery. The Guavians usually sent their red-armoured foot soldiers for this sort of job, deadlier than their human colleagues. They blended in even worse. It was hard to get red suited men with a full stop for a face past Canto Bight security.

 

Bala-Tik must have been really annoyed at the data she’d sliced out of his systems in return for a healthy payoff by one of his competitors. It was always just about business.. It was never personal, at least not for her. Given the effort Bala-Tik had taken to track her down and the expression on his face as he searched the room, it looked personal for him. Why did men always take betrayal to heart? He caught her eye, curling his thin lips into a sneer.

 

If running wasn’t an option, there was an alternative. Placing the glass on the bar, she kept her movements slow and unhurried as he started towards her. DJ spotted an ideal, and unwilling, accomplice to her plan. Seconds later a rotund woman patted her neck in horror and let off a yowl that echoed through the hall, “That woman just stole my necklace!” The crowd parted around DJ as a squad of Canto Bight police descended with lightning efficiency. Raising her arms slowly in mock, apologetic, surrender, a string of serendibite stones dangled from one hand. Smiling at a seething Bala-Tik she was cuffed and briskly marched off, leaving him standing impotently in her wake. 

 

Under the hotel itself, the surprisingly comfortable cell wasn’t a long term solution, but it bought some time. The Canto Bight police were so well paid, they were remarkably hard to bribe, and the gangs had never managed to build up the networks which they relied on and operated in other parts of the galaxy. There would be no blade slipped between her ribs in the middle of the night, no ‘accidental’ release into the hands of the Guavians. It wasn't as palatial as her hotel room, but she’d been in worse. No, she had some time to come up with a Plan B. Something always came up to her advantage, it was just a matter of waiting. Curling up on a top bunk DJ found sleep came surprisingly easy.

 

“We are running out of time. If we don’t find that codebreaker…” a male voice with an edge verging on panic disturbed her slumber. A woman replied, something inaudible, soothing. DJ snapped to alertness.

 

“We are stuck here while the Resistance are going to be wiped out in hours. We need to get onto Snoke’s ship!” 

 

“I could help” DJ slid languidly from the top bunk, aware of the young man’s gaze on her slender legs as her dress slithered up her thighs. A blush darkening his cheeks when he realised he’d been spotted, making him look even younger than he was.

 

The woman with him looked less than sure, exchanging doubtful glances with her companion who shrugged, after managing to remove his eyes from DJ. She didn’t look Core Worlds, but neither did he. From the way they were dressed they didn’t look like they had much of anything, but the Rebels had money. Anyone in the war game had money.

 

“You can break into Snoke’s ship? Get us in there?” DJ nodded, trying not to be offended by their lack of trust of her skills. After a quick round of introductions, it was down to business negotiations.

 

“Snoke? Big guy? Has a fancy ship? Of course. Easy. More important question is do you have a ship?” DJ could sense a handy means of escape. Pulling one of her unusual hair clips from her hair, she sauntered over to the cell door. Finn nodded, “Yeah, on the beach.” 

 

DJ considered  their plan as the business end of the clip slid into the techlock. On the plus side a payoff from the Resistance meant not having to release funds from one of the banking planets, inevitably watched by the Guavians. That was useful, and she did need a way off the planet. On the flip side, Snoke was as First Order as it was possible to get, and there might be certain ‘difficulties’. No, there was really only one person it was best if she avoided, and what were the chances of coming face to face with him? The First Order fleet was pretty big these days, spreading across the systems, the new Republic destroyed only days ago. The galaxy was vast, massive. 

  
  


Right now, the galaxy was feeling a whole lot smaller.

 

For once she had miscalculated, anger at her stupidity twisting her stomach as a stormtrooper forced her down into a shuttle seat keeping his blaster trained on her.. As Hux had ordered no one spoke to her, not even the thin faced officer, Captain Opan, who regarded her through narrowed eyes. His gaze was curious, but one thing she remembered about Hux was that people tended to obey him without question. Except her of course.

 

Did that explain the anger and bare hatred that had flashed in his eyes? Probably.

He hadn't looked at her last time she had seen him. Then there had been desire and pleasure from being in her company. Perhaps his reaction was fair, given what had happened to the Admiral so soon afterward. 

 

But it didn’t explain his actions. Pushing her to her knees and having her executed with the Resistance fighters would have been understandable. Dragging her off to a cell would have have been another intelligible move. But ordering her to be taken back to his quarters in virtual quarantine? That was unexpected and therefore worrying, because she had no idea what he intended to do with her, a knot of fear beginning to build. This was the man who had destroyed an entire system just a week before, it was foolish to judge him against the man she had met three years before. 

 

The shuttle exited the hangar and started the short hop to the  _ Finalizer, _ the space surrounding the  _ Supremacy _ dotted with a shoal of smaller star destroyers. A flash of light consumed the interior of the vessel, blinded her as she was flung off her seat, narrowly missing the bulkhead to land on Opan. A massive shockwave followed, hitting the small vessel, briefly blacking out the power circuits. 

 

“What the kriffing …” a trooper’v voice even modulated by his helmet, high pitched with youth and fear. Stepping to a window she saw the  _ Supremacy  _ sliced almost in half by light, debris flung out through the ships in its shadow. They were lucky not to have been hit. Opan’s neutral expression slipped as he strode to the pilot’s com panel. Power resumed and he immediately opened a com link.

 

“ _ Supremacy _ bridge, this is shuttle  _ Echo Niner _ , reporting no damage. Captain Opan here, what’s the status?”  his voice was calm, his eyes never leaving the devastation of the huge ship they had just exited. 

 

The reply was almost inaudible, voices fighting with warning sirens and alarms in the background. But the message was relayed - continue to the  _ Finalizer _ , with orders for Opan to return. He nodded slowly, his eyes on DJ trying to figure out why she could be so important, even now. For the first time in the three years he had worked with Hux, he realised he had been issued an order that he did not understand. That concerned him; HIs role was to know everything, analyse and, if necessary, eliminate the risks.This woman, in a stolen uniform, known and hated by Hux. He had no idea who, or what, she was. His brow furrowed for a brief second before he recovered his reserve. 

  
  
  


The main reception room of Hux’s suite was elegant, large and as impersonal as a hotel. Black floor, black walls, huge window, and a surprisingly pale blue sofa. Other bits of furniture dotted about. She could have been in a waiting room or an office anywhere.

Another door seemed to lead into Hux’s personal quarters, but it seemed impolite to go snooping, yet. She’d wait for Opan to leave first. The Captain for his part looked keen to leave, standing awkwardly by the door as DJ wandered in.

 

“This is PD 34, the General’s personal droid. He can find you some food I expect,” he gestured at a shiny black humanoid droid. “The guards are outside, if you attempt to leave, they will shoot on sight.” He stopped, deciding that covered all the main points. 

 

Stay inside, don’t die, or try and leave and die. 

 

The droid would report if she did anything untoward. It was part of his programming. Opan left without a further word, leaving DJ standing with the droid, wearing a stolen uniform and uncomfortable boots.

 

“Does Hux have any whiskey?” she slipped off the boots with a sigh and  dropping the uniform jacket on the floor as she toured the room. While its face was unable to display emotion, PD 34 still managed to look offended as it picked it up the items and placed them neatly on a rack by the door. For a prison cell, it had to be of the nicest she’d been in.  The floor to ceiling windows showed only open space, the remnants of the  _ Supremacy  _  weren’t visible from this side of the ship. Resistance attack? A suicide attack by Finn and Rose? It seemed unlikely. But whatever the attack had been, Hux had survived it. Whether that was good news for her or not wasn’t yet clear. 

 

By vast wall of glass was Hux’s desk, designed to dominate the room and anyone who faced him. Bare of papers or personal items, as impersonal as everything else. Trailing her finger across the polished wood, she tested the two drawers. Locked. Data screen and keyboard embedded into the surface, circular slot for an coded data cylinder. A finger tap called forward a security message on the screen, red text glowing against the dark screen.

 

“Excuse me, Madam, guests are not permitted to access the General’s data system” the droid’s voice was firm as he walked towards her. Protocol droids looked harmless, but they could be trouble. The PD models could even upgraded for security and protection purposes, blaster tech integrated into the main body. Hux seemed like the upgrade type.

 

“PD 34, Access core processes please. Command line 34, Override 19. Confirm?”

 

“Confirm?” 

 

“Confirm,” the droid was silent and still. 

 

“Install new user imprint. Access level Alpha. Confirm?”

 

“New user confirmed.” the droid kicked back into life, DJ patted its black glossy chest as she walked past. She’d known the moment they had met they would be good friends. Of course, it really shouldn't have been that easy, but what all security system designers tended to forget was that shortcuts were installed for maintenance and servicing crews who didn't want their arms ripped off by defensive droids or spend hours recoding security access protocols. First rule of slicing, there was usually an easy way in because people were too lazy to do things properly.

 

Stage 1 complete, it was time for refreshments. She may as well make herself at home. Walking towards a side table tidily covered in bottles and glasses her thoughts were stalled by a strange sensation on her legs. Looking down she recoiled slightly in horror. 

 

“What the hell is this thing?” No one had mentioned she’d have to share her living space with wild animals. Had that been Hux’s plan, lock her in to get eaten alive? Slowly. It was quite small after all, but size could be deceptive. The ginger furred creature curled around her legs, making a strange sound that reverberated through her calf. Perhaps a sign it was about to attack.

 

PD34 observed the creature impassively. 

 

“The General tells me it is called a ‘cat’. A trade delegation gave it to him as a gift and he kept it as a pet. That is apparently an animal which one chooses to share living space with. The reason for such behaviour is unknown” his tone, for a droid, verged on expressive. DJ stood stock still as the creature weaved through her legs, rubbing the side of its face on her boots, the noise in its throat deepening.

 

“A trade delegation gave the General a ginger animal as a pet?” Why would a system would have ever considered that a good idea, given the colour of Hux’s own pelt? “Did the negotiations go well ?” DJ struggled to keep a straight face, wondering if the delegation had chosen it because it matched the General. Had it been a compliment or an ill advised joke? He’d kept it though.The droid, however, had not been programmed to understand sarcasm.

 

“I think so, yes.” 

 

The cat continued to wind itself around her legs as she carefully stepped over it to a nearby sofa and sat down, eying it warily as it approached.

 

“Will it attack me?”

 

“According to the General, only if you don’t do exactly what it wants.” 

 

“I can see why they get on so well. Does it have a name?” It seemed friendly. She reached down to stroke it, surprised that it felt as soft as it looked against her fingers. It sought her hand and snuzzled it, its warm breath tickling her palm. 

 

”Her name is apparently Millicent”

 

“Her? Millicent eh, that’s a beautiful name.” Whether it was the strokes, or her tone, but the cat jumped up silently and lay beside her, its head on her lap as she continued to softly pet the animal. It was strangely relaxing, and a nice change, to be this close to something real, alive and apparently without a hidden agenda. DJ sipped the whiskey and felt herself relax. The next few hours would be filled with more whiskey, lots of lovely hot water if her suspicions about his bathroom were correct. Yes, she would make full use of her situation. If Hux thought he had the market cornered on doing unexpected things, he had a rather large surprise coming. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Let me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux's opinion of Millicent darkens

Hux had lost track of hours, days, since the  _ Raddus _ attack. Exhaustion cloaked him like a second skin. His eyes reddened by lack of sleep and Crait salt that seemed to seep into his very dermis. 

 

They had failed. No, he corrected himself as he completed one last report on his datapad, the Supreme Leader had failed. The thought was immediately extinguished, but he felt a jolt of pleasure at his nerve. He could not say it, he could not even allow himself to think it for more than a second, but it was true.  

 

“Sir, all is in hand, you should retire” Captain Peavey said quietly. Hux knew the man always held him up against his father and found him wanting, but there was a brief glimmer of respect in his eyes now that he had not detected before. Hux had done his best, and fought as hard as any man could. 

 

He had a cot in a side room off the bridge and had caught an hour of rest there off and on over the last few days, but it would look irregular if he didn’t go back to his quarters eventually. Ren had stalked off to his the moment they had returned to the Finalizer hours ago. Not for the Supreme Leader the call of responsibilities, it had just been his childish anger driving him to his solitude. 

 

He should have arranged some alternative accomodation for her, somewhere far away from him. Possibly without a reliable supply of oxygen.  But for some reason in a fit of panic he had put her in his quarters - well, she could sleep on the hard cold floor for all he cared. No, what he should have done was have her executed back on the  _ Supremacy. _ Given Phasma the job. Now, Phasma was missing, the  _ Supremacy  _ was in pieces and the Resistance gone. A more superstitious man might have decided that it was her fault that everything since her arrival had been damned to hell.  

 

Hux ignored the two guards as he walked through his suite entrance, too tired to think about what he might find. It seemed years ago since he’d seen her in the hangar. Maybe it had just been a dream, and he’d find himself alone, with only Millicent for company. 

  
  


For only the briefest of seconds an image flashed of her lying in his bed, waiting for him. Black sheets wrapped around her naked body as he walked toward her, her eyes dark with need. Sudden desire flickered, and then extinguished as even through his exhaustion his anger reignited. 

 

_ No, I was fooled once. Never again. _

 

He conjured another image. Her restless, pacing and sleepless with fear at what he had planned for her, panic setting in as she realised there was no escape. A narrow smile ghosted across his lips as he entered his suite at the thought. It faded as he saw her lounging on his sofa wrapped in his silk dressing gown, an expression of ease and calm on her face.

 

He noted the open bottle of his whiskey, the discarded volumes of his books lying open, spines unthinkingly spread.  His cat lay on her lap looking very pleased at the attention she was getting. Hux glared at Millicent who stared back, green eyes unblinking. 

Yet another treacherous female, absolutely no loyalty to her master. Mustering the last dregs of his strength he caught DJ’s eye, refusing to let his eyes linger on her blonde unpinned hair or her long legs that had escaped from the gown, curled under her enticingly. 

 

“This door will be locked, try to come in  and I will have you shot and thrown out an airlock. Understand?” he hissed, not looking back as the door to his personal chambers slide shut behind him. 

 

“Don't flatter yourself,” she muttered as his door closed, stroking Millicent absentmindedly. 

 

“Millicent, sorry love, but I have to get back to work, keep the sofa warm for me?” DJ carefully lifted the cat off her, caution learnt from having already fallen victim to her claws over the last two days.

 

Stretching her arms above her head, DJ arched her back in preparation for the long night ahead, spine cracking. The security system had tracked his progress up from the bridge, so she’d had time to hide her activities. But there was still work to do.

 

_ If in doubt, make yourself useful  _

That had always been her motto for survival, a motto that also happened to play into her natural sense of curiosity.  Plugging a rank cylinder back in, she started typing as her security clearance opened up once again the treasure trove of Order files and data systems.

 

Hours later, print outs neatly placed in sorted piles, she collapsed onto the sofa, the warm soft body of the cat spooning into the backs of her thighs as they both fell into a deep sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what has DJ been up to and will it be enough to save her from the airlock?


	4. I should be much too smart for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DJ has an unexpected visitor. Her hard work might just provide the answers Hux is looking for.

The functioning part of her unconscious brain translated the remorseless buzzing into a warning alert. Panic rose as in her dream the ship’s controls refused to obey her commands, while a legion of white clad stormtroopers marched towards her gleaming silver vessel. DJ woke with a start, confused. Memory returned achingly slowly, deadened by a headache threatening to liquify her brain. Her eyes filled with shades of ice-blue, face buried in against the back cushions of Hux’s comfortable sofa. A warm softness snuggled the back of her legs .  And the buzzing continued.

 

_ Where the hell was the droid? _

 

She slumped her head back, a vague recollection returning that she’d told it to power down after it had started making critical, and slightly passive aggressive, comments about her consumption of Hux’s collection of alcoholic beverages. Namely a third bottle of  Whyren's Reserve. Alpha access didn’t close off medical advice sensors designed to analyse human alcohol levels or provide patronising comments about the dangers of drunkenness. Why were droids so boring? If she ever got around to purchasing one she’d train it to make cocktails and keep its personal opinions on her lifestyle choices to itself. Maybe it had inherited some of traits of its owner - they both seemed to have a heightened sense of their own importance.

 

Wincing as her eyes adjusted to the light, an internal voice, sounding a little like PD34, suggested those bottles could explain the throbbing pain in her skull. Either way, the buzzing wasn’t helping. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the external door console. Muttering darkly, DJ glared at Hux’s private quarters, the door of which remained firmly closed. He was either sleeping through the sound or deciding that her or the droid could cope with it. She toyed with the idea of breaking through whatever security he’d used on his bedroom door just to wake him up, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d spent all night hiding behind it ready to jump out and shoot her. 

 

_ Ginger bastard. _

Swearing grumpily she rolled off the sofa, leaving Millicent to stretch gracefully. The cat took over the couch in one smooth move as DJ crawled inelegantly to her feet.

Whoever was standing the corridor really hadn’t gotten the hint. Surely the guards could have told them to go away? Wrapping Hux’s dressing gown around her and knotting the belt for good measure she pressed the control for the door and came face to face with a man. Tall, dark with a vivid scar running down one cheek. Clothed in black, his body almost through the door as it slid open. 

A expression of shock was quickly masked but he couldn’t hide his wild and bloodshot eyes. A similar look of exhaustion had haunted Hux’s face when he had returned the night before. Pale and drawn, the skin around his eyes were bruised with fatigue. 

“Where’s Hux?” his voice deep but jumpy. There was a mania there that went beyond tiredness she realised. Confusion in his eyes grew as he looked past her into the room before wrenching his gaze back to her.

DJ ran a hand through her disheveled hair unconsciously, giving her a second to think and adjust to the energy buffeting around her. 

“In bed, asleep,” she replied, observing as her words sent a myriad of expressions flitting across his face, like ripples across a pond. Annoyance, anger, surprise and something else, just there for a second but distinctive and intense. He backed away a little, taking in Hux’s dressing gown wrapped around her, hair mussed from sleep. 

She could almost hear the thump of him jumping to the wrong conclusion. His fists clenched in black leather gloves, and DJ braced herself for violence. Keeping her mind as still as she could took all her focus, feeling the power of the Force around him, seeking direction and purpose. Waves of energy flowing through him, threatening to pull her under, drowning, tugging her mind free from its mooring. Her father had told her tales of the old Sith Lords. She had never thought such Force could have been directed by one person. Until now. 

And then it was gone, his lip curling into a sneer, “Tell him when he’s less occupied that his Supreme Leader wishes to see him. ” Turning he stalked down the corridor, black garments whipped back by his progress. DJ exhaled slowly, calming her heart. Two white uniformed guards shamefacedly shuffled back into place at either side of the door as DJ watched him go, pressing the controls to shut the door. 

“So that’s the new Supreme Leader eh?” she asked Millicent, her tone artificially light even to her own ears.  The cat’s green eyes staring at her balefully as DJ stroked the short soft fur between her ears, daring her to try and regain the sofa. Putting her hands up in mock surrender, DJ instead sat back at the desk she’d occupied most of the night and checked through her files.

Something she was sure she’d read nagged at her, the memory of a report that the sight, and feel of him, had rekindled. The power, the waves of energy almost pulsating through him, he could have directed it into her on a whim and ripped her mind apart. But he hadn’t bothered.  Perhaps he hadn’t thought she was worth it. Maybe she had caught him off guard. There had certainly been something about his reaction to her that intrigued her. She buried the thought away for another time to bring out and consider.

She’d heard the name Kylo Ren. She may have kept out of the war and the politics  but it wasn’t like she lived under a rock. That night a long time ago, Hux had talked about him, dismissively, as Snoke’s pupil, a wild and untamed boy. And now he was the Supreme Leader? A man defined by his emotions - the antithesis of Hux himself. Studying the screen intently and lost in thought at the irony, she missed the sound of footsteps.

“What is hell is this?” Hux didn’t bother to hide his fury. There were piles of data sheets on his desk, neatly stacked. He grabbed one, his own words instantly recognisable. It was after-action report he’d written on his return from Crait the night before, summarising their lack of success at capturing the last remaining Rebels. The reasons for failure, of course were only expressed in couched terms. If he had had his way, he would have scrawled ‘it was all Kylo fucking Ren’s fault’ in bright red letters- but diplomacy borne of self preservation had stilled his hands. Not that Ren ever read reports. He wasn’t even sure the man was literate. The only thing he had seen him do with a datapad was violently hurl it across the room at junior officer. 

Swallowing down his bitterness, Hux returned his attention to the sheets laid on his desk. Speechless for a moment, stunned as to how she’d accessed it all, broken through the layers and layers of First Order data security. All while he had slept in the next room - the first decent night rest he had had in days. His normally sharp instincts had failed him completely.

“I should have had you executed with the other Rebels when I had the chance,” he muttered to himself as he picked up another readout, this one outlining crew losses from the  _ Supremacy _ and his recommendation that the vessel was not recoverable. Another report caught his attention,  an update that Captain Phasma had been found in the wreckage of the hangar, injured but alive, currently being treated with bacta-therapy on board the  _ Finalizer _ . All of which woman who was dressed in his bathrobe had known before he did.  

“Well, according to that sheet over there,” DJ pointed to one of the piles “They apparently survived and escaped on my luxury yacht, that would have been my preferred plan too. Much more entertaining than being stuck here for two days with a wild animal and a droid.” DJ smirked, watching with fascination as two dots of anger settled on his pale cheeks.

His eyes narrowed, wondering once again how he had managed to get himself into this situation. He’d been exhausted of course, days without sleep. But locking her in his quarters seemed such a rash decision that tiredness alone couldn’t excuse it. 

“You haven't exactly been a priority. However you seem to have kept yourself busy in many ways,” he sneered, nodding at the empty bottles of his best whiskey and rare books strewn on the side table and desk by the piles. DJ picked up the volume closest to her, reading the spine.

“The history and writing of Mando’ra. Such a surprisingly beautiful language, I've always thought.” Something behind that comment stirred a distant memory, which he shrugged off. He had more pressing issues currently. 

Like what the hell to do with her.

“Hacking into First Order data systems is a serious crime. It makes you a traitor and a spy. Two more crimes to add to the list of reasons to have you executed - as to how you actually managed it..” he faltered looking at the rank clearance cylinder that DJ was holding in her  hand like a small silver trophy.

“Where did you get that from? ” he hissed, his face horrified by the security breach. With the right coding those particular cylinders gave anyone who possessed them clearance access up to, well, him. Hux followed her gaze to the open top drawer in his desk. He’d had a spare cylinder in there, uncoded, but that apparently hadn’t stopped her. 

“Hand it over.” Regretfully she slapped it  in his palm. He placed it back in the drawer, slamming it shut with a curse.

“If you put a slicer in a room for two days, don't be surprised if she hacks your systems.” she shrugged with a faint smile that only annoyed him further.

“Slicer? Is that what you are? I thought you were just a thief. Or maybe more accurately the kind of scum who just got paid to seduce old men and then murder them” he stared down at her upturned face, his anger only compounded by her lack of fear.

DJ didn’t  resist a smirk, “Assassination is just a sideline, and from memory I don't think  _ I  _  seduced  anyone,” she challenged. Before Hux could reply, the suite door slide open and Captain Opan entered. His neutral expression  did well to disguise his distinct impression he had walked into the middle of something.

“Apologies Sir for the interruption, we picked up some unusual data activity from your console over the last few hours. I just wanted to check that there were no issues of concern.” Opan stood at attention, face impassive.

Hux stood stunned, his usual self assurance deserting him. As he watched DJ took the initiative, striding up to the Captain,  hand outstretched in warm welcome. 

“Captain, I’m not sure if we were properly introduced, my name is DJ. I’m a private contractor. The General asked me to undertake a meta-analysis to search for any gaps or connections in the data which could aid in tracing the location of the remnants of the escaped Resistance  fleet,” her tone was so professional and assured, the lies coming so easily from her mouth. But of course, it wasn't the first time.

“Excellent idea Sir. Very useful”  Opan nodded in approval. If he had any reservations about an unauthorised civilian who no security clearance being given access to top secret First Order data, he chose to remain quiet. After all, Hux would never have permitted her unfettered or unsupervised access.

Hux felt conflicting emotions as he considered whether he should deny her story or save face. His pride won. She had saved him from admitting his security error to a subordinate, but she would pay at some point for having played him for a fool one more time.

“These are some initial findings. Can you look over these Captain?” Hux indicated the piles on the desk then pulled DJ to the window, his voice quiet but menacing as Opan leafed through the sheets she had so carefully organised.

“You may think you are clever, but this is not over. Remember there is a First Order arrest warrant in your name for the murder of Admiral Keros, and I am more than happy to turn you over to First Order Security bureau for execution. Or gladly do it myself.” She smelt of whiskey and spice. Warm, inviting. Hux became suddenly aware how close they were together, the heat of her radiating through the wool of his uniform. He felt uncomfortable, a blush beginning to form against his will,  He almost swore with relief when Opan looked up from the desk and called Hux over.

“Sir, you may want to have a look at this” He passed a page to Hux, DJ recognising the details from the reverse side of the page as it caught the light. Unlike the rest which were system printouts, it was a summary she’d written, titled catchily “Things you don’t know, but I could help you find out because I'm really good at what I do.”

The first bullet point was ‘Crait’.

Both men looked up at her, Opan giving nothing away, Hux’s face hardened once again into a mask of  permanent displeasure, the humour not appreciated. DJ sighed, she had to be careful to not make a mis-step, but this was it - her chance to pitch her services and provide a good reason to keep her out of an airlock.

“From what I have read, given certain tactical decisions, beyond your control, the remaining members of the Resistance escaped, leaving you with no trace of their course. I think I can help.” 

Both men continued to regard her in weighted silence, so she continued. 

“They didn't have time to activate a scuttle procedure for their comms, so there was still live data available. The data your com techs accessed from the Rebel base indicated that they sent a distress code from General Organa across the galaxy. No one replied, except Luke Skywalker.” She saw Hux wince as he recalled Ren’s so-called duae with the man, only for it to cost them ultimate success. 

“What your techs didn’t think to find was where the signal was received. That would give you the positions of Resistance outposts where they could be heading for support.” Hux looked at Opan questioningly, suspecting he already knew the answer given the guarded expression on his subordinate’s face. Opan wasn’t directly responsible for the tech teams, but he’d do as a scapegoat.

“Is she right?” he demanded. Opan shuffled through a few sheets as he considered his answer. The woman was right, they hadn’t got that intel when they accessed the Rebel systems, the techs only looking for messages received and finding none. He nodded curtly at his superior officer.

“I’m afraid so Sir, they seem to have not considered that information. Although I'm sure our technicians, with time...”  

“I want to go to Crait” she said, drawing both men’s attention. Hux’s immediate thoughts on her idea were too readily apparent, he was about to either break into stunned laughter or backhand her for her insolence.

“Here me out. Whoever you sent down there when you attacked the Resistance didn’t have a clue. I doubt they even know what they would be looking for, it’s not stored on the main memory but the active drive. And you can’t disconnect and bring the tech back here because the signal codes will be lost when the power outs.”  She paused,counting on them not understanding enough to realise that wasn’t strictly true. 

She waved over to the remaining piles of sheets. “Look this is what I do, this is what people pay me a huge amount of credits to do. I can help you track down the Resistance. No one else can do it.” Hux still didn’t look convinced but he was at least thinking about it.

“What do you think?” his question was pointedly directed at Opan.

“We have clean up teams going down to collect the last of our equipment. We could send her down with another tech team and a large security detail?” Opan watched Hux’s reaction carefully, still failing to understand the personal dynamics at play. Hux oscillated between irritation and anger. But she was still alive, which, with Hux, counted for something.  

Hux analysed his options. He didn't trust her. He didn't want her anywhere near him, but anything that could give them back some of the advantage they had lost had to be pursued. His personal distaste would have to be put aside. And, of course, just because she went to Crait, there was no reason she had to return from it. 

He nodded curtly at Opan who barked orders through his comlink to the tech teams and returned his remorseless gaze to DJ. 

“If you make one wrong move or attempt to escape, my people will have.. ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you'll throw me out of an airlock, have me executed. Fine.” She sighed, watching Hux pick through the other sheets. 

“What's this other material?” 

DJ threw a look at Opan before she replied. He had moved far enough away for them not to be overheard.

“Further things you might find of particular interest. Reading through reports you submitted, I know Kylo Ren told you the girl killed Snoke. Rey, I think her name was? And reading between the lines, I sense that you don't believe him. I don't either, the story simply doesn’t make sense. I just met him, he’s a big guy, strong with the Force....” 

Hux stared out his window, his shoulder still aching from the impact of being slammed into the wall of Ren’s shuttle. But his pride hurt more.  “Ren was here?”

“Yes, just before you got up, he wants to see you. Anyway, I think i know how to find the proof you need. I can’t do it from here, but if my hunch is right it should be accessible from the  _ Supremacy _ \- and I’m always right” He snapped his gaze back to her, checking that she was serious and that it wasn’t just a line to save her skin a little longer. She looked sure of herself, the previous swagger replaced by almost professional pride.

He looked like the perfect officer - but slicked hair and an immaculate uniform couldn't hide the calculating look in his eyes as he allowed himself one moment of pleasure as he dreamt of Ren’s destruction. The man was a uncontrollable child, and he dared to put himself at the top of the Order Hux himself had built? Hux who had constructed the biggest weapon the galaxy had ever seen? Grown and led the most effective fighting force that would soon obliterate every obstacle in its path? 

Hux had no reason to trust DJ, and she would pay for what she had done to him in time. But that could wait, he was a patient man. If she was right, he would soon have the proof to strip Ren of the title he had stolen, and take the Order for his own. His uncharacteristic smile spoke volumes.

She had him. The look in his eyes told her that the hunch had paid off.  If Hux had been interested by what she could provide on Crait, she’d caught him hook, line and sinker with what she was offering on Snoke and Ren. Whatever else was playing in his head, whatever animosity he felt towards her, she’d just ensured her survival, at least for now. At least it had wiped that bloody sneer from his face, finally reminding her of when his shock of copper hair and good looks had caught her attention three years ago. Her self  satisfied grin faded, dismissing the memory. DJ had another reason for going to Crait, and a set of striking cheekbones wasn’t going to distract her. 

Speaking of Crait, she looked down at her current attire, feeling Hux's eyes follow hers before snapping back to the papers in his hands. She didn’t miss the slight pink flush on his cheeks. 

“I’ll need something more appropriate to wear.” 

If the General was surprised that Captain Opan volunteered to assist DJ, he didn’t say anything as he dismissively waved them away. Frankly, mused Opan, they just looked relieved to no longer be in each other’s company. Opan studied her surreptitiously in the turbolift, her bed attire in stark contrast to his formal uniform and their surroundings. For someone dressed in someone else’s bathrobe she looked remarkably at ease, playing with a necklace around her neck, apparently deep in thought. He was relieved she hadn’t attempted to flirt with him, seeking advantage from the senior member of Hux’s private staff. She wouldn’t have been the first woman or man who thought that the could ingratiate themselves to him through physical demonstrations. Their failure had been complete, his tastes far more specialised that the offer of a blow job or quick fuck in a turbolift. 

DJ did not appeal to him sexually, but she continued to surprise him, and in his line of work surprises could  be fatal. Since the General had ordered her arrest he’d been waiting for the slight nod or look that indicated that she, like so many others, was a problem Hux wanted him to resolve. Permanently. It had yet to come and that confused him. 

Of course, the slicing work she had done while in in his rooms had been a shrewd move - primarily because he could guarantee it had been without Hux’s prior knowledge or approval. It could have gone wrong, breaking into First Order systems was usually punished swiftly and permanently. Instead she had provided evidence of her capacities and he suspected the promise of more.

Entering Hux’s chambers earlier he had initially come to a very different conclusion. One which most casual observers would have leapt to, seeing her wrapped in Hux’s voluminous dressing gown, blonde hair unbound and wild from sleep. It was only after noticing the blanket on the sofa that he had the truth. Whatever had happened, it hadn’t been a romantic reunion. In fact, seeing them together it was clear that there was a distinct animosity between them - but also a shared past and secret. 

Secrets were the worse kind of surprises.

The reconnaissance storage facility was vast, filled with neat rows and rows of clothing and associated accessories, meticulously labelled with the system or race that they were related to. Most of the clothing was tailored for humanoids of course. Very few of the Order’s crew were alien. It wasn’t exactly a standard shopping destination but if DJ needed clothes to wear, and did not want to wait for them to be sewn by a droid, then this was the only alternative. 

The First Order often had to operate in a number of systems, inserting specially trained agents into the field seeking information or tracking down Resistance sympathizers. Opan leant against the storage room wall, watching her underneath hooded eyelids. 

DJ’s approach was efficient, familarising herself with the hold’s categorisation system and concentrating only on systems that had clothing both practical, and technologically advanced enough to be suitable. He called over a small hoovering freight droid as she appeared with an armful of garments, two pairs of boots tucked under one arm.  

“That was surprisingly productive. But one of those would go nicely with this jacket,” she grinned slyly, nodding  toward the boards of indigenous weapons carefully arranged, including rather nasty looking blaster pistols that rivalled anything the Guavians had. Opan’s glare in return assured her that was not going to be an option. She shrugged, “It was worth a try.” 

“Put out your arm” he ordered, and she obeyed with a wary look. A slim black bracelet was placed around her wrist, clicking into place to form one solid piece. It was of Hux’s own design, only two currently in existence.

“Jewellery? How kind, but we have only just met!” she teased, turning it around in her hand, noting how any join had disappeared, only a tiny pinpoint size red light indicating that it was anything other than decorative.

“Tracker and access to limited areas within the Finalizer. Hux’s orders.” She nodded, Opan noting that Hux’s lack of trust hadn’t come as a surprise. Opan decided for once to ignore a senior officer’s orders. 

“When did you and the General first met?” he asked. Her eyes narrowed at the question but she answered readily, without suspicion.

“About three standard years ago.”

A piece of the puzzle fell into place. Three years, just before Hux had replaced his entire team of private staff in one fell swoop - reassigned to fleet positions where their careers would sink and die forgotten on the outskirts of the First Order. Just before Opan accepted the role of the head of Hux’s staff, a position he was in no hurry to lose. 

The tingle of surprise he had felt earlier was morphing into something uncomfortably like the ringing of alarm bells.

Whatever role she had played in the General’s past, it had been enough to cause Hux to ensure there were no witnesses left standing. Opan wouldn’t let the same thing happen again this time, with his career on the line. He had taken too many lives, done too many dirty jobs to be sidelined now because she had reappeared. No matter how useful she was, she represented a loose end better disposed of, whether Hux realised it or not. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DJ goes to Crait and makes an unexpected friend and yet another enemy. 
> 
> Kylo makes a decision.


	5. All about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone tries to be DJ's friend.

A first Order transporter shuttle wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel, but at least the ride to Crait gave her much needed time to think. DJ leant against the hard metal panel of the vessel’s black walls, staring out the viewport, lulled by the gentle hum of the ion engines below.

Opan’s question worried DJ. It had seemed innocent enough. But it wasn’t.

_ How? Where? _

They were the standard lines of inquiry. But when? That sounded like Opan was looking for an answer to a particular question.

Lying hadn’t been an option. A man like Opan was too well trained not to pick up on the little tells too tricky to hide. The rules of lying were keeping the basics as close to the truth as possible. That she had met Hux before didn’t tell the Captain anything useful. He’d already have figured that out himself from the General’s reaction. A smirk played across her lips, Hux had almost been apoplectic with rage when he’d recognised her. 

Anyway, the game was to not make Opan any more suspicious of her that he would have naturally been. All Hux had ordered her to do was protect the specifics of their first meeting. Which, to be honest, was another thing that confused her. If she was a criminal, why hide her crime? 

If it was about the other thing, she smirk grew. Regardless of his reasons, it could be almost worth a one-way trip through an airlock to break through Opan’s grim neutral expression with a choice recollection or two. 

Almost.

What was certain was Opan was a man to be wary of - he gave nothing away, his emotions and thoughts closely guarded. It made him good at his job, Hux obviously trusted him. But it made him yet another problem.

DJ hadn’t bothered to investigate the personnel files of Hux’s private staff, an omission she needed to rectify. One of many things she needed to resolve. Hux and his permanent sneer had began to haunt her dreams, his smug face taunting her. Oh yes, travel gave her the perfect opportunity to contemplate at least five ways to wipe it from his face. Only three of them resulted in bloodshed. The fourth involved him floating out through space while she waved jauntily as his ice formed on his pale skin and his eyeballs froze. 

And the other? That wasn’t worth spending the time thinking about.

As for Kylo Ren, she’d never been one to give herself over to fear, but he had the kind of Force power she thought only existed in tales of old. DJ pushed the thoughts away; there was no point thinking about people who were soon going to be part of her past, where they belonged. 

 

A powerful sense of being watched drew DJ’s attention from the view to the figure sitting opposite her. She was a curiosity - neither part of the Order, nor a prisoner. Impossible to categorise in a world where everything came with a label and a rank. Focusing her gaze she stared at a round, pleasant, face. Pretty in a backcountry system sort of way. The girl had been assigned to ‘aid’ DJ in retrieving the data from Crait, she recalled, Opan’s expression serious as he’d gone over what she was going to be allowed to do, and what she most definitely wasn’t.  Young, as most of the officers and techs seemed to be. Eager, keen to please with a neat bun paler than DJ’s own dirty blonde. The wide pale eyes highlighting both the seriousness with which she was taking her assignment and frank curiosity.

DJ returned a long cold stare, the one she had perfected for unwanted attention in cantinas, but the girl didn’t get the hint. It was returned with a look of simple open friendliness and a shy smile. It was strangely disconcerting. 

Hux would have been an idiot if he hadn’t live comlinked the shuttle. Anything she said would be relayed live to a tech on the  _ Finalizer  _ who had the crap job of transcribing it for his attention.  That almost made her want to talk the boots off the girl, just to annoy him. Give him pages of something meaningless to read through after she’d gone.

“Excuse me. I'm Junior Communications Technician Kennedy…Ma’am. I was told to assist you on Crait.” the girl’s voice had the same standard tone that all the crew seemed to share. Not Outer Rim, not Core Worlds, but mixed into a First Order universally shared accent. Her head tilted as she talked, a shy smile curling her lips as she talked.

Without a book or datapad to pretend to work on, DJ was either going to spend the trip staring out the viewport or have a conversation. After spending the last few days with men who made Rathars look friendly and approachable, talking to someone whose conversation didn’t mostly consist of threats to kill her might actually be a nice change.

“I'm a private contractor, working for General Hux,” DJ replied.  The truth, although unpaid prisoner with a job was perhaps nearer to the whole truth.

She was amused to see the technician's eyes lit up when she referred to the General.

“So, you aren't part of the Order?” Kennedy’s tone was slightly incredulously as she carefully surveyed DJ's civilian clothes - soft black leather trousers and a silk shirt that she’d been delighted to unearth in her ‘shopping trip' from the aisle labeled ‘Brentaal.’

“Not the Order, not anything. I work for myself. Hence the word ‘private.’” DJ didn't mock the girl, easy as that would be.  Everyone had heard the stories - the Order selecting and training crews from young teens or even children. Star Destroyers and crewmates became their homes and families. She tried to imagine how she must look to someone who had known very little else but the Order. Even if their paths had previously intersected, Kennedy’s idea of life and hers couldn’t be more different.

 

“But surely you will join us, now that you have seen what the Order has to offer, the stability and prosperity it will bring the galaxy?”

DJ covered a laugh with a cough, playing with the traitorous bangle that Opan had placed on her. As she departed, he took pains to tell her it was seeded with explosives and would take her arm off if she tried to remove it. Her favourite kind of jewelry she thought grimly, and probably an appropriate symbol of the Order.

“No. I'm quite happy with my life.” DJ glanced away, reconsidering the wisdom of the conversation, but she realised Kennedy was still staring at her in confusion, still unable to process her answer. It was like talking to a droid. 

Her response did not compute.

_ Fine. _

“First Order or Resistance, two sides to the same coin. Not for me. Don’t Join, Live Free, that’s my motto,” although currently, the living free part was more aspirational than actual. If all goes well that would soon change, she reminded herself.

“So that's what your necklace means? D.J. Don't join?” Kennedy pointed at the small strand of gold nestled around her throat, that held a small pendant of two letters entwined. It's what most people thought, and DJ didn't usually bother to correct them. Something about her companion’s innocence and curiosity made her explain herself for once.

“It's my name, well, sort of” She held it up so Kennedy could see more clearly.

“It means D’ara Jedha. Blessed of Jedha. My name's D’ara. Not sure if that was my parent's idea of a joke really...” DJ's laugh was hollow as she let the delicate pendant drop back.

“And Jedha? That’s your home? I’ve not heard of it.”

DJ wasn’t surprised. Most people hadn’t, not anymore. Even to her, it was little more than a bedtime story.

“No, it doesn’t really exist,” she glimpsing the pale white surface of Crait becoming larger through the viewport, confused as to why she’d been so honest. DJ didn’t tend to lie, it wasn’t usually worth the effort, but neither did she run around spouting her personal history. The Master Codebreaker would be rolling his eyes in horror.

Had Opan or Hux heard her real name, and were now busily running the data through their systems, trying to connect the dots? Maybe it had been a mistake, but more likely it didn’t matter. The Order like the Empire had millions of facial recognition files, and they would have found her identity soon enough. That she’d escaped his arrest warrant was probably more good luck than anything else. And now it didn’t matter.  A vision of Hux clutching a slim file emblazoned with her name in bold letters, sneering at his cleverness, made her smile. But it didn’t matter.

That’s what the Master Codebreaker had always failed to realise, treating his real name Cody like a treasured secret. Secrets only mattered if they protected someone you loved. She had no one to protect, no one that could be leveraged or hurt if she was exposed.

_ D’ara _

But it had still been strange to say her real name. The sound of it brought back memories of snuggling down in blankets, her father stroking her hair as she fell asleep, his voice soft and warm as tiredness overwhelmed her. When she closed her eyes, she could almost see his face, weatherbeaten, broad, calm. So unlike her mother, paler, blonde like her - a bird in both looks and nature - always on the wing, never settling. Her father had been her rock; Solid, reassuring, so sure of his path. So unlike her. They had still died, lost in someone else’s war, the Force he had given so much of his life to, abandoning them when he needed it most.

 

That’s why she didn’t join, the Empire had destroyed her homeland before she was born, and the Rebels had taken her parents from her in some pointless attack tracking down information on the First Order.   DJ dragged her attention back to Kennedy, seeking distraction from traveling down a path she had sworn long ago not to visit again.

“Where are you from?” she wondered if the girl still even remembered as Kennedy’s head tilted again as she registered the question.

“Oh, a little Outer rim system, you wouldn’t have heard of it” she laughed apologetically, a strangely girlish giggle for someone wearing a stark grey uniform and a blaster.

“Try me.”

“Arkasis” she laughed again waiting for DJ to admit her ignorance.

“Very green, but wet. Rains all the time?”

“Yes! I can’t believe you have heard of it!”

Kennedy would be delighted to know her precious General was from the same home planet.

_ Why the hell had she even remembered that? _

Standing on a balcony with the warmth of the night and intoxicating scent of the lush gardens, so different than the rest of the dry landscape of Lothal. Suddenly aware of a figure beside her, sensing who it was without turning. He’d drawn her eyes the moment she had arrived. Eventually, he’d sought her out, both drawn by the stars - by each other. That had been the start. 

But that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? Starting was easy, and it was the aftermath that got you into the shit.

This was getting too heavy. Thinking about the past might lead to introspection, at which point she'd be tempted to throw herself through an airlock.

 

“So, what's under those helmets then? Anything worth seeing?” DJ leant towards the technician and whispered, nodding towards one of the stormtroopers who sat a few seats away. “Do they ever take them off?”

Kennedy's face transformed from curious, but still reasonably professional Order officer to the young woman she was, her eyes lighting up.

“Some of them are rather good looking, not that us techs or officers ever would though...but...” she giggled nervously, her voice conspiratorial.

“Oh, so you prefer the lure of a uniform then?”  Kennedy seemed to follow her train of conversation from the pink hue that rose up on her cheeks.

“There are a couple who are worth looking at...” She whispered back, “It's not all work, there are cantinas and places to socialise on board. Us technicians and officers share a good bar or two” The blush deepened.

“There are?” DJ tucked away a wayward strand of  hair behind her ear. Why she was so surprised? Iit was a ship of thousands of people, in close confines. They must have devised some ways of keeping them entertained while off duty. Long years in space without no one but your crew could lead to all sorts of interesting interactions.

“And anyone worth associating with?” DJ had a suspicion Kennedy was a woman with a secret, instantly confirmed when she nodded shyly, the blush deepening.

“Um, there might be one...she’s way above me though, bridge crew. A Lieutenant. I see her at physical training sometimes, and our shifts are on the same rotation. But what about you? Do you have someone you like the look of?” the question caught her by surprise, off guard.

“I've only been here two days,” and mostly locked in Hux's suite, “So no,” she said with a smile.

“But have you ever been in love?” Kennedy asked

 

_ Seriously? _

Didn't this girl understand the rules of conversation? You couldn't just ask this sort of thing with a stranger. Dj sighed, wondering once again why silence hadn’t seemed a better option.

“A long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“He left.”

“And no one since?”

DJ shook her head, not allowing herself to think his name. Even now she remembered it.

“Why? Do they keep leaving like the first one?” that earnt Kennedy another cool stare which didn’t dent her curiosity.

_ Cheeky. _

“No, I suppose I do.”

“Why?” Kennedy was relentless.

“Well sometimes in my line of work it's a necessity.”

“Is there...is there someone you wish you hadn't left?”

DJ stared out the window. It was hard to answer a question when you didn’t truthfully know the answer.

“So tell me about this officer of yours…” DJ murmured. The best defence had always been a distraction.

“She's stationed on the bridge. She works with the General. Oooh, what about the General? You know him don’t you, and he's very...” the blushing deepen to a melting point. DJ raised an eyebrow in question, ignoring the mental image of Hux that appeared in her head - sharp cheekbones and surprisingly full lips. Soft lips.

 

“I mean, I do prefer women, but he's rather really...You know...” Kennedy stammered, her voice little more than a whisper. If Hux had bugged the shuttle and was listening in, she couldn’t imagine his expression when he heard this.

“Really what?” DJ smiled innocently, just praying Hux would hear this at some point. She’d love to see his face, worried about what her contribution to this discussion would be. Afterall, she could say rather a lot on the matter. To see Kennedy’s face and the gossip that would spread afterward would almost be worth being shot by Phasma. Kennedy looked a talker.

“You know he’s very ...” prompted Kennedy.

“Tall? Uptight? Angry? Looks like he could do with a large drink and to sleep for a week?” DJ volunteered, receiving a frustrated eye roll from Kennedy in return.

“No, good looking. He’s very attractive. For a man.”

“Think so?” a distant memory of running her finger tip across his cheek as she leant into kiss him sprang from nowhere and was banished just as quickly. She swallowed awkwardly.

“He's not my type.” she finished, not meeting the tech’s eyes. 

_ Oh thank the Maker _

The pilot’s voice of the intercom crackled out through the cabin, alerting them that they were just about to land.

 

Hux strode over the communications console, the technician hunched over with headphones on, watching the screen intently.

“Anything of use?” Hux barked, frightening the tech as he leant over his shoulder to view the screen beyond. His mistrust of DJ was such that he had ordered Opan to go to all efforts to ensure that anything she said or did would be captured on film and audio. This mission to Crait was probably just a cover for an attempt to escape, and he was determined she wasn’t going to have the opportunity to slip away quietly. Not this time.

The helmet cam they had fitted to one of the stormtroopers gave a black and white image of the interior of the shuttle and the two figures of the com tech and DJ sitting beyond. They'd wired Officer Kennedy for audio, not that she knew. 

The technician's face froze as Hux took another set of earphones and put them on, his face colouring almost immediately as he caught the tail end of the two women's conversation. Her laugh, the words ‘Not my type’ crackling through the earpiece. Unbidden an image of his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her down to him; His lips on the soft curve of her neck as she’d called his name flashed through his mind. So, as he had always known, it had just been for the money then, for the job. She’d been paid to seduce him. Hux ripped off the headphones, throwing them onto the desk, the tech flinching visibly in fear as they narrowly missed his head. Hux immediately regretted his lack of control over his anger. She was turning him into Ren - all emotion, no logic. It could not be tolerated.

He could imagine what the Supreme Leader would have done in the same situation - taken her and left her bloody and bleeding, begging for death. Like he always did.

But he wasn't Ren, and he preferred his revenge at arm’s length, cold and calculated. Preferably without him getting his hands dirty. If he'd gone to his chambers and she'd been in his bed, naked, willing, what would he have done? He'd been so tired he almost might not have noticed. Would he have demanded she left or allowed her to seduce him one more time, letting her kiss him, her long hair tickling his chest as her lips and hands trailed down his skin?

_ Fuck. _

Hux slammed a gloved fist into the console in front of him, startling the nervous tech again beside him. No, she'd played him more cleverly than that. She’d offered him something he couldn’t refuse - an advantage over his enemies.

And when she was no longer of any use? 

Then it would be time for payback for what she had done to him three years ago. Perhaps this time he would let it be personal. Maybe then he could have her on her knees begging for mercy, for her life. Begging for him to …

Hux clenched his fist, still aching from the earlier impact, the leather creaking with the pressure. He focused on the pain, trying to push down the thoughts and need that threatened to overwhelm him, his distraction causing him to miss the sound of someone walking up the bridge beside him.

 

Ren stalked up the bridge gangway, sensing the tail end of Hux's thoughts. An uncharacteristic lapse by the General, but an interesting one, a sneer curling his lips. So Hux had found comfort in his little visitor after all.

“Did your ‘companion’ pass on my message that I wished to see you?” his voice deep and even.

Hux blankly stared for a moment before nodding warily. Ren watched as  the realisation that he’d met the woman in his chamber unsettled the General for a moment before he regained his composure. He waited for an explanation for her presence. What excuse he would give? Ren hadn’t recognised her, she didn’t look like one of the Order’s more accommodating women who sometimes found themselves in officer’s beds. 

“The woman is a private contractor, a slicer. She is now employed to assist tracking down the fleeing Rebels.” Hux muttered, none of which explained why she had been in his quarters underdressed in his robe.

Ren smiled coldly. “I did not doubt that your interaction with her was a business transaction.” Hux flushed a little at the implication to Ren’s pleasure.

His dark eyes flashed as he added, “But can I give you some advice? Be careful Hux that you don't let any personal issues impact your effectiveness as leader of my forces.” Ren relished the look of barely masked hatred that Hux threw back at him as he was reminded of his newly subordinate status.

“When you are finished here, please report to my quarters. I have new orders for you and my Order.”

 

Hux nodded as Ren turned and left, trying to mask just how much the encounter had disconcerted him. Snoke was no longer there to hold Ren’s dark passions and sorcery in check. Hux would have to be careful until his time came. 

But it would come, whatever it took.

“Sir, apologies, but what do you want me to do with the com data from Crait?” the technician’s voice barely registered above a frightened whisper, but enough to draw Hux away from his thoughts.

“Pass on anything of tactical value. And I want a transcript updated hourly on my desk. Strictly confidential, my eyes only.” He took another look at the screen, the camera firmly focused on DJ's leather-clad bottom as she and the technician stood up to disembark, “And please remind SF 2941 that we can see exactly what he is looking at.” he sneered, storming off.

_ Had the bloody man never seen a woman before? _


	6. Don't come and go

Stepping onto the gritty surface of Crait, DJ narrowed her eyes against the glare of the shining white salt. Breathing unprocessed air for the first time in days was nice; Promptly coughing as she inhaled raw sodium that bit the back of her throat. She’d be digging it out of her clothes and private regions for weeks, watching as it drifted down like snowflakes, disturbed by their landing craft. But it was nice to have a solid planet under her feet for a change.

The crisp white beauty of the planet was incongruous with the blood red scars of recent battle and the burnt out remnants of the old mining base. Teams of First Order troopers were oversaw the airlift of the siege cannon that had caused the devastation, and removal of the massive AT-M6s. 

Stepping through the shattered and melted remains of the base blast door, DJ dodged wreckage and debris, her eyes adjusting to the dim light quickly.  Through the dim light she picked out the slim shape of the  _ Libertine _ \- her ship -  off to the side of the huge hollowed out base station.  The Supremacy reports had suggested that Rose and Finn had escaped their execution, stealing the vessel and making their escape. And there it was, dull silver glinting temptingly in the gloom. Her way off this planet and out of the whole shit storm she’d found herself in. 

Her stomach twisted, her main reason for coming to Crait had gone up in a puff of white salt. She didn’t have to be a door maintenance technician to realise that the siege cannon had melted the blast doors into a solid mass. They could not be opened open wide enough to fly the ship out. It would be stuck here, beautiful and useless. Corroding in the salt, like her dreams of a fast exit. 

Pushing that to the back of her mind, followed the team to the glassed control room and began the job of decrypting and downloading the data she had told Hux she had come to find. Her every move was overseen by Kennedy as ordered and also from professional interest. What DJ was doing had never formed part of Kennedy’s methodical but uninspired Order tech training. Neither had the procession of inventive swear words that accompanied DJ’s work as the old style biohexacypted communications system fought to keep her out. Finally, Kennedy’s education complete, they were in.  

DJ scanned the data output. As she had suspected, the data was there, no one had bothered to look for it previously. Since no one had explicitly ordered it, and the First Order teams didn’t have any sense of initiative, it was hers to claim. That’s what following orders did for you - it deadened the mind.

Nine contact points had actively received the Resistance transmission, a stricken plea from the General Leia to come to their aid. None had replied. DJ imagined the slowing rising panic, slowly spreading through the small group as the truth hit them. Help wasn’t going to come. And yet it had in the end from a source closer to home: Finn and Rose and their comrades escaping while she was still trapped in a First Order net. She didn’t miss the rich irony.

In their rush to escape they hadn’t destroyed the com equipment, an oversight DJ had no qualms in using to track them. 

This wasn’t her battle or her fight. She’d told Rose that at the start, nothing had changed. Nine contact points meant nine active Resistance bases for the Rebels to possibly use as safe havens in the future. Nine sources of more resources and recruits. DJ quickly scanned the location coordinates of the signals, recognising one immediately. The numbers familiar from childhood. Her decision came unbidden but made instantly.

DJ thrust out an impatient hand at her shadow. “So, eight locations. Excellent. Pass me your data card”. Kennedy did as she was told, her face a little confused.

“Eight?” she repeated, voice hesitant. 

“Eight” DJ confirmed, voice calm and firm. Kennedy squinted again, and then nodded; At first hesitant, then with conviction. Eight. For a moment she had thought - but no, there had been eight. It must have been the salt in her eyes. She pulled up her technicians helmet, her fingers skimming away a crust that had begun to form on her tear ducts. 

“Kennedy, who is that officer over there, staring at me? Woman, I think. Hard to tell with those stupid hats they make you all wear”  It took one minute of distraction to delete one dataset and save the data, without the last, ninth, set of coordinates.

Without Jedha. 

It hadn’t been purely a distraction technique. There really was a female officer who hadn’t taken her eyes off DJ for the last ten minutes, ever since she had arrived with another cleanup team. 

 

The team was charge of dismantling some Rebel tech they had decided to be valuable. Whomever the woman was, she seemed to be spending most of her energy focused on DJ. And not in the friendly, curious Kennedy way.

Kennedy turned  back to DJ, her expression darkening. 

“Oh, that’s Petty Officer Seren. She’s trouble,” she lowered her voice. “And she hates you.”

DJ was baffled. She hadn’t even met the woman - usually it took at least a ‘hello’ for someone to loathe her. Kennedy’s face flushed with shame.

“I, well, I wasn’t entirely honest with you before - I sort of knew about you being …,” she paused, struggling to come up with the right term “a friend of General Hux. Sorry, didn’t mean to lie or trick you. I just felt weird knowing that, and you not knowing that I knew and… ” 

DJ shrugged it off, interrupting her. “Friend?”

“The guards assigned outside his chambers, well, they sort of told some of their colleagues who told some of the tech staff…” 

“That I was there. So Seren knows I’m a ‘friend’ of Hux?”

Kennedy nodded, eying Seren nervously.

So much for Hux ordering everyone to silence. So much for the cold, calculating war machine of the First Order - more like a gossipy sewing circle.

“And why does this Seren hate me?” 

“They were, you know, involved. Well,” She held her breath for a brief second, building her courage. “They were fucking.” Kennedy blushed at her bold language, inspired by DJ’s  earlier eloquence.

“Apparently. At least that’s what she said, and then a couple of months ago, it stopped.”

“Hux was sleeping with her?” DJ shot Seren another look, longer this time. The woman was shorter than her, dark hair and hard eyes. Narrow face, like one of the glittering ice foxes they had encountered running about the base. Pretty but with a nasty bite. Maybe Hux liked her teeth.

Kennedy nodded. “She told everyone, I think she thought it was going to turn into some kind of relationship, she’d get promoted to a commissioned officer role… you know, what every young girl dreams of.” 

DJ threw her a look of disbelief that which Kennedy ignored.

“I mean, it wouldn’t have of course. The General, well, I don’t know if there have been any others, but he’s not the relationship type - I would have thought.  Oh, no, I’m putting my foot in it aren’t I, if you...” Kennedy became flustered, face getting pinker as she remembered that DJ was sleeping with Hux too.

“So she hates me because she thinks I’ve taken her place in his bed?” DJ asked incredulous, laughter erupting at the ridiculousness of the situation. Their precious Order was attempting to win a war, destroy an enemy, and this woman was pissed off because she thought DJ was sleeping with her man?

Given the real nature of DJ’s interactions with Hux so far, this was getting funnier by the moment. Or more tragic, it was hard to decide which.

“You haven’t? I mean, you’re not?” 

DJ shook her head, as Kennedy sighed in relief that she hadn’t just majorly put her shiny black boot in her mouth.

“No, I told you, he’s not my type. It’s purely a business arrangement,” which was mostly the truth. Except in business people usually got paid for their work. But the past was definitely the past. Even if she had been willing, which she wasn’t, Hux had made it more than clear his feelings for her were purely of the extermination variety. 

“But let’s not tell Seren that shall we?” DJ grinned at Kennedy before giving the officer a cheery wave.  Seren returned a cold dismissive sneer. Hux would have been proud. She turned smartly away and ignored her. 

_ Oh Hux, what have you been up to?   _

  
  


Hux inserted the data card into his datapad and read quickly, his eyes briefly meeting Kennedy’s, who DJ had insisted had accompanied her to the bridge to deliver the information in person. 

“This is...useful,” his voice grudgingly positive directed at the tech, “Good work.” He dismissed Kennedy with a curt nod, her face flushed with pride as she walked back down the gangway to her usual station. Hux waited in silence until she was out of ear shot, before turning back to DJ. He’d read through the transcript - it contained details about her he had been informed about already, or irrelevancies. There were more important matters to attend to.

 

“After the Supreme Leader’s planned departure tomorrow I will be visiting the  _ Supremacy  _ tomorrow at 0700 to survey the final plans for its scuttling. The rest of the fleet will then set course for Coruscant. I thought it might present anl opportunity to investigate that other matter that we discussed? You claimed you must be on the  _ Supremacy _ to make an accurate assessment of the situation?” 

He seemed unwilling to meet her eyes, his gaze flitting from her to the huge windows that spanned the bridge and the wild space beyond.

“Coruscant?” DJ couldn’t keep the confusion from her tone. That was the old capital of the Empire, centre of the Core Worlds. The First Order didn’t have a power base there, did they? 

Hux turned, his voice low. “The Supreme Leader and I met today. He has decided to call the First Order to Coruscant. They have formed a formal alliance with us and will come under his formal protection.” 

Hux almost spat out the next words, DJ seeing his struggle to keep under control the hatred writ on his features.

”He wishes to hold a coronation, to mark his new leadership,” he stopped, regaining his calm with difficulty, “If you can find any evidence to support your theory, I will wipe the arrest order against you. Understood?” 

Her head dipped in acknowledgement. This meant everything to him, and therefore everything for her survival.

“Will I be free to go after this matter is concluded?”

“I have yet to decide. But I would be less likely to have you executed imminently”. His tone made it clear the subject was closed. He left her standing alone, coat billowing in his purposeful wake as he strode down the gangway.

 

He hadn't seemed like such an arsehole last time they'd met, but maybe that was because she hadn't stayed around for long enough to find out. It didn’t matter, she told herself, getting clear of this shit storm of a situation was the only thing that did. She had to come up with the goods, give him what he wanted and then go. Seren and anyone else on this cursed ship was welcome to him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Instilling so much doubt

Kylo paced his quarters, his broad frame restless. He stalked past the twisted mask of his grandfather with a troubled glance. The mask - a memorial and a challenge to match Vader's achievements.

Now finally, he was the equal of Vader. _No_ , _not equal_ , he thought with a thin smile; He had surpassed even Lord Vader. His grandfather, for all his capabilities, had always been a pawn of an Emperor who was even stronger; Kylo, though, had attained ultimate power. He had no need for masks any longer.

All must bow to his command, the entire First Order under his control, even those who had resented and belittled his influence and abilities in the past. His thoughts turned to Hux, his brow furrowing as his mood darkened.

 _Hux_.  

He had never trusted him. They had nothing in common, save a grim coincidence that they had both killed their own fathers. But even then Hux hadn’t been man enough to do it himself. Even so, there the similarity ended.

Hux was arrogant, proud and so ambitious that Snoke’s depiction of him as a rapid cur seemed like an understatement. Ren had  kept him close and within sight. A cur on a short leash - harder for him to turn against him that way. But he had never expected Hux to surprise him. Or perhaps it hadn't been the General who has surprised him, but the woman?

Unafraid of his power, unashamed to be found in Hux's quarters like a common whore. Treating him like the usurper. The slut had made him feel less than he was, and the memory of it brought a bitter taste to his throat.

_Bitch_

Rey. He had offered her everything. The galaxy. Himself.

And she had looked at him in horror.

She had aligned herself with the old ways of the Jedi that had no place in this galaxy. In the very galaxy that he would rule.

_Let the past die. And her with it._

No mercy. Nothing but the call of the dark side and the domination of every system that would stand against him lay ahead. There could be no distractions for him, or anyone that served him.

Why should Hux find comfort in someone other than Ren, his Leader? Hux owed loyalty and his life to only him, no one else. A shiver of rage, tinged with something even darker and deeper, passed through him in surging waves.

Ren, at last, acknowledged the figure who had been waiting silently at attention.

“I have informed General Hux of my plans for a formal coronation to celebrate my new leadership.”

His guest made no comment, the news of little interest to a soldier who had never had any time, or respect, for empty spectacle.

“I intend, I think, to make a formal appointment to the position of Grand Marshall, at this event,” Ren’s tone was even, but he could sense the impact of his words on his guest. A sharpening of the expression perhaps, a darkening of the eyes.

“Hux appears to have a new...companion. Do you know anything of her?” he turned back towards the viewing window of his chambers, unwilling to let his guest see any indication that this question was anything more than simple interest or concern for a senior colleague.

His guest’s tone was sneering.  “She’s a mercenary, infiltrated the Supremacy with FN-2187 and then turned against the Resistance when they were caught. The General has engaged her _services_ over the last few days”

“A mercenary? That Hux has permitted to remain on board, and free…” he let his voice trail off until he turned, his face set into a rough facsimile of concern.

“I have significant doubts about the competence of an officer who would make such an apparent lapse of judgement regarding his affairs. Concerns which could lead me to consider whether such an individual should be at the helm of the military. Perhaps his lack of ability to fully eliminate the Resistance threat has dimmed his reason. It leads me to wonder if his judgement maybe clouded in other areas - whether there may be others better suited to the role.”

Kylo could almost hear his guest's mind racing at the possibility hidden behind his words.

“But, perhaps we should first give Hux the benefit of the doubt, he may have been a victim of a weak will at a vulnerable time. He appears unable, or even unwilling, to make the appropriate judgement call regarding the female, so perhaps it would be kind for us to aid him in that matter. If even after her removal he appears less than able to perform at a suitable standard, I may need to consider further options.” Kylo stared into the other’s eyes making sure his words were understood.

Kylo watched his guest leave, satisfied that his will would be carried out - his mind already on his imminent departure. He would take the throne in Coruscant, but first there were loose ends that needed to be tied. Permanently.

Kylo smiled as he strode from his rooms, mind on the task ahead. He would not be thwarted, he would be obeyed, and he would be feared. There would be no refuge from his power.


	8. It all turns sour

Stepping down from the landing ramp of the shuttle DJ was immediately overwhelmed by the scale of the recovery operation to move  resources and personnel from the doomed Supremacy onto any remaining star destroyers. All operational hangars were working non-stop, crews near breaking point before the ship’s acceleration compensators and inertial dampeners finally failed. Soon it would be a lifeless hulk floating through deep space, but the First Order would not allow it to be a target for scavengers and bandits who would strip the wreck bare. DJ had read the operational plans - 6 more hours to clear as much as they could before vital processes ceased, and then it would destroyed. Snoke’s monstrous flying capital would be no more, nothing but a memory, like the Leader himself and almost a quarter of a million Order crew who had also lost their lives in the  _ Raddus _ attack. 

 

DJ  and General Hux weaved their way through the frenetic activity, a grimace plastered on her face as the heavy thunk of containers and machines being loaded into vessels sliced through her skull. Shown to her new quarters after returning from Crait she’d found whiskey in a cupboard and drunk most of it, curled up on a chair staring out to space.  She hadn't been in the mood for thinking or self pity, and the free booze was the only benefit of being assigned one of the dignitary guest quarters on the same floor as Hux. It had probably been Opan’s idea - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer and out of the way.

 

Except Opan and Hux probably didn’t have friends.

 

She'd drunk and then slept fitfully, Millicent arriving and then hogging her bed, the cat with apparent free reign over the entire floor. Even without the cat, she had slept badly - dreams filled with slashes of red against a shining white plain and the echo of the burning bitterness of salt in her mouth. 

 

While her ailments were entirely self-inflicted, Hux’s looked distinctly work related;  Eyes ringed with bruises from lack of sleep, almost grey with exhaustion. He'd met her at 0700 but it was clear he'd either been up for hours or had never gone to bed. Neither had been in the mood for small talk on the short shuttle hop, too occupied with the job ahead. He may have been tired, but when she looked in his eyes, there was the glitter of nervous excitement that chilled her.

_ What if her hunch had been wrong? _

 

DJ had spent some of the evening before studying the datapad Opan had provided her with on the  _ Finalizer _ . It contained detailed specs for the subsection of the Supremacy they were visiting, but they weren’t complete. The throne room was a blank space on the specs, no information or data on the room or its connections to the wider ship. Snoke had had his own quarters and throne room at the top of the ship, staffed by his own alien attendants and red-clad guards. The diagrams gave nothing away. 

 

Hux’s initial report on what he had found in the throne room had been sparse on details. Snoke’s body had been found crumpled in a heap at the foot of his throne,  the bloodless corpse wrapped in golden robes - death from being sliced in half by a lightsaber. Kylo Ren had been found unconscious, in theory after being overpowered by Rey, a Resistance rebel with force powers who had disarmed Ren, killed Snoke and his Praetorian guards. It read like a fairy tale. The footage of Rey arriving on the escape pod showed a young, slim girl, walking calmly beside Ren to her fate. Had she really killed them all, while Ren lay helpless? Had Hux been able to write the report with a straight face? But without evidence, it was the only story he had, unless she could find the evidence that Ren had lied. 

 

DJ could see Hux watching her silently as she spent the short journey scrutinizing the walls and ceiling, checking each white glowing panel systematically. There had been some recent repairs undertaken, but they were at chest height, so looked unrelated. Finally the turbolift doors opened with a hiss onto the vastness of Snoke’s abandoned throne room, the windows of the room open now to the deep space beyond, the burnt and tattered remains of red curtains scattered on the floor. 

 

Hux obviously didn't trust his own teams for this job, that’s why she was here. This needed to be secret, especially if they found the evidence against Ren he was hoping for.  Hux stood, hands clasped behind his back, as she circled the room, stepping over debris, eyes not moving off the floor. Stopping, she gently kicked something laying on the polished black surface with the toe of a boot and knelt down for a closer look.

 

“See these?” her voice echoed through the chamber as DJ held up small black plastic fragments  that littered the floor behind the optical viewing device. The edges of the small pieces appeared charred,  “Going from what you told me, this is from one of the holoprojectors Snoke used, they would have hovered here and probably over there by the main entrance, capturing all activity in the chamber. You said he holoprojectored his image to the other ships or locations?”

 

Hux nodded, remembering the slight wisp of terror that would overtake him everytime Snoke’s image would appear unannounced on the bridge or in his chambers.

 

“Someone has taken them out with a blaster or saber to destroy them,  it’s hard to tell with this melt pattern. They were probably hoping that would destroy any evidence there were cameras so we wouldn’t look for backup recordings.” Brushing off her hands on her leather pants she got up, frowning as she scanned the wider floor for more remnants.

 

“But how do we know the cameras were actually on at the time?”  Hux could hear an edge of desperation in his tone and hated himself for it. Being here brought back too many memories, of Ren unconscious at his feet and his missed opportunity to end him forever.  His throat ached with the memory of Ren’s Force grip around his throat as in one move he’d lost control of his armies and his own pride. If only he had taken his pistol when he had the chance. He would not make the same mistake again. Hux heard DJ’s voice and dragged his attention back to her words. 

 

“From what we know, Rey was being brought in front of Snoke and she was going to give him the location of Luke Skywalker. His great moment of triumph, wouldn’t you want to record that?” Hux nodded slowly in agreement. With Ren’s departure, and Snoke’s demise, he could allow himself the luxury of thinking more freely, without the constant fear his mind was being searched for traitorous thoughts. He chose to imagine himself on the throne, clad in robes of black and gold,  his enemies brought to heel. Hands in binders, painfully chained behind them, with perhaps a few fresh bruises and a lazy path of blood slowly meandering down their chin. Beaten and broken. 

Kylo’s face. His father, Brendol’s face - bloated and sickly pale. The cries for mercy which he would ignore with a narrow smile and a small flick of his hand as his guards dragged them out of his sight. Yes, he would want to record that. 

 

He looked up to see DJ watching him warily before she started back towards the lifts.

 

“So the data should have been recorded somewhere, no point in having cameras otherwise, and Rey would have been doing well to destroy the cameras, and the data and then escape…,” the implication clear in her tone.“Ok, let’s find the recording hub.” 

 

Descending to the floor below they wound their way through empty abandoned corridors, DJ following a map from the datapad, before stopping in front of a small recess in a semi darkened hallway, lit with red tinged emergency lighting, that would soon fail as the Supremacy’s enemy supplies died. The central black panel was a charred mess, diagonal burn marks from a lightsaber scarring the front, any electronics located behind shortened out and blackened by the attack.

 

“He’s had help from a technician to find this, or he understands a lot more about electronics than you realised. It’s not on the schematics. ” She didn’t need to say who ‘he’ was, any pretence that the Resistance fighter had been behind Snoke’s death had gone.

 

“So we’ve no proof now!” Hux cursed, furious to have come so far but with nothing to show for it. 

“I wouldn’t give up quite yet” she said quietly, kicking the lowest panel in the section, causing it to open with a crack, “There is always a secondary back-up, and the data isn’t stored on the front screen anyway. Only an idiot would think that. The data bank is embedded behind.” DJ pulled  the panel out of the way and the took off her jacket and lay on her back, wriggling her head and shoulders into the void beyond.

 

Hux tried, and failed, not to stare at her bare midriff as she stretched into the hatch, the smooth leather of her trouser waistband running across the curve of her hip bone, the little gap as it skimmed across her stomach. Dragging his eyes away he tried to concentrate his mind of the matter at hand. If he had proof that Ren had killed Snoke, it would give him the leadership of the Order. The First Order would never unite behind Ren, the man who had murdered their leader, a man who they had never trusted and had only seen as a destructive man-child trailing in Snoke’s wake. No, with them at his back, Hux would destroy Ren and take the throne for himself. Then he would finish what Ren’s stupidity had prevented on Crait - the final annihilation of the Rebels.

 

“Pass me your data card” 

 

Hux pulled the small disk out of an internal pocket of his great coat and passed it to her, getting an accidental view up her shirt as he bent down, his cheeks flushing pink against his copper sideburns.

 

“I probably don't want to know, but how do you know so much about Order systems?” he swallowed, focusing on the marks on the panel in front of him rather than the body at his feet - just another in a long line of Order equipment that had suffered the rage of Ren.

 

“Evertyne uses pretty much the same tech, you lot, civilians,” her voice was muffled by the confined space, “and of course, I’m very good at my job.” 

 

Against his better judgement, he was impressed.  If she had come from a different background, a different system where the Order had taken control, she would have made a fine officer or technician. With her quick mind, calm efficiency and technological skills she might have even found herself working on his flagship.

_ Under him directly.  _

Hux cleared his throat, pulling himself quickly away from that thought, studying his datapad for any incoming messages. Looking for a distraction.

 

A minute later she re-appeared, a huge grin across her face, “Data pad.” she commanded, pulling herself into a sitting position against the wall.

 

He handed his black tablet over and she plugged in the card tapping quickly on the keys.

 

“Fuck. It’s encrypted,” she sighed, “Oh well, that would have been too easy. No chance that you know the passkey?” she looked at him hopefully, his grim expression dashing her hopes, so she started the long battle to get through the walls of encryption.

 

As the minutes ticked over, Hux paced up and down the corridor, hands clasped behind him in his typical stance,  his nerves almost at breaking point as he willed her to succeed. 

DJ looked up, brow furrowed in frustration, the tread of his boots distracting her as they marched up and down the hall in front of her time and time again. 

 

“What was Snoke’s favourite food?” she asked, not looking up to see Hux stopping mid-pace, his face incredulous.

“The most powerful being in the galaxy and you want to know what he  _ ate _ ?” he spat, stunned at the question  “I don’t know, he had attendants. Why, will it help? Do you think it’s the passcode?”

Hux returned to his pacing, as DJ kept typed rapidly, fighting her way through the quantum-spread biohexacrypt code that overlaid the data stream section that she had copied from the mainframe.

 

Hux paused, “The life force of his enemies?” he offered, with a smirk, returning to his pacing, quite pleased with his humour.

 

“That was almost a joke.” DJ muttered, increasingly distracted by the steady swish of the hem of his coat past her eye line she sat on the floor. She didn’t bother to look up to see his reaction to her comment as he continued past.

 

“If that was such a silly question, what’s your favourite food then?” she asked, her frown and hangover easing as one by one the code layers began to part, the data slowing giving up its secrets.

 

Hux whipped his head around as he stalked past, eying the figure on the ground.

“What? I really don’t see how this is going to help. Fine.” He stopped, eyes unfocused in thought,  “when I was young, if I was sad, I remember getting sweets. Small, wrapped in blue paper. She would sneak them out of her pocket for me when he wasn’t looking.  I don’t even remember what they tasted like. But those.” his voice was little more than a whisper.

 

DJ stopped typing, stretching her fingers as she looked up at him, his green eyes staring off into the distance as he recalled the memory. 

“Your mother?” she asked, her voice low, she hadn’t expected such honesty and it suddenly made the moment awkward. 

_ Didn’t most people just say caf or toast? Or that awful tarrine tea he always drinks? _

Hux shook his head, replying to her question almost without conscious thought, “No, someone else...” he turned to her, his manner morphing from sadness to hurt  to anger in a split second as the thought struck him that she was mocking him. Like Dameron, “Look, if this was some kind of joke at my expense... “ he stopped, his attention instead on the data pad she was holding out to him.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear unable to meet his eyes as he took the tablet from her. She had felt so very pleased with herself for being right, and now pride felt tempered by the memory flash of hurt in his eyes. He’d thought she was laughing at him and she felt a pang of unexpected guilt. 

“Your pacing, it was annoying me.You stop walking when you are thinking” her voice was quiet as he looked at the screen.

 

“Anyway, we’re in. Footage from the holoprojector camera feed. And from the turbolift for the time period specified, although I went a bit over on either side just to be sure.” She’d only seen the beginning of the footage, Rey and Ren standing side by side in the lift, looking more intimate than prisoner and captor. Hux’s eyes flushed with success as he fast forwarded through the footage, his smile widening in triumph as he saw the small but distinguishable images his Leader and the Resistance girl fighting side by side, Snoke lying still in the background.

 

For the first time since she’d been in his company he looked down at her with a genuine smile, his relief causing his face to lose the hard edges that made him look much more than his 30 odd years. He offered her a hand up, which she accepted, the leather of his glove warm and smooth in her palm. His strength came as a surprise and DJ almost collided with his chest, putting her free hand on his coat, grabbing his lapel - finding herself unexpectedly close. The scent of him filled her nostrils, leather, spice and something sharper but not unpleasant, unleashing an unbidden warmth to her cheeks as her body responded to him.

_ How could the smell of him seem so familiar after all this time?  _

The datapad in his other hand beeped urgently, their gaze locking for a moment before she pulled away and bent to retrieve hers from the floor, hiding her flushed face and silently cursing her stupidity.  Whatever she had just felt was only an echo of the past, her body’s memory of him, nothing more. 

 

Hux looked up from the screen, closing the com alert, “I need to go to the bridge, check the final preparations for the scuttling. Can you find your way back to the hangar for the shuttle to the  _ Finalizer _ ?” 

 

“Fine” she replied, slipping on her jacket, returning his gaze calmly. 

 

Hux turned to go, pausing, without looking  back, his head tilted slightly to the side, a curt nod and a quiet ‘Thank you’ as he continued down the corridor.

 

DJ slumped against the wall, letting out a big sigh of relief. She’d done it. Whatever was on the file, he looked pleased. So arrest warrant wiped, time to go. Hopefully in a decent ship and a few credits for her time. It seemed only fair. 

 

And she was now alone. Well, it was only an illusion of freedom for the moment until she got rid of her bangle and onto her own ship, but it was enough for now. And very useful given the idea she’d just had.

 

It didn’t take long to find the laundry room they’d first visited when they had infiltrated the Supremacy. The auto-valet droids were silent and still now, no longer needed to iron uniforms for staff either dead or evacuated. 

 

Locating the right panel she gave it a sharp kick, pushing it out of place, revealing the piles of clothes and boots stashed behind it. Rose’s were neatly folded onto of Finn’s, unsurprisingly given her obvious feelings for him. DJ’s abandoned gold dress was rumpled and tossed at the back. The dress wasn’t what she had come for - the blaster she’d left wrapped in it was. Small, but deadly, the sensor-proof holdout pistol would go through scanners without setting it off alerts - making it very illegal and very handy. Which is probably why the owner of the Libertine had invested in a few of the hideously expensive things. She’d left it behind because getting caught on a First Order ship was easier to explain if you weren’t packing an very illegal weapon at the same time. Tucking it into the waistband under her jacket, DJ carefully unfolded the brown leather jacket Finn had left behind folded neatly. He’d looked at it sadly as he’d left it behind, which had caught her attention. Given everything they had been risking, it had seemed a little self indulgent to mourn losing an item of clothing.

It wasn’t much to look at, the soft tan and red leather battered and bruised. A huge tear on the shoulder badly repaired with staples, the leather worn and crinkled. But there was something about it that made DJ decide to slip it on, an oversized memento of the huge disastrous scheme.  It was the least Finn and Rose owed her after stealing her ship.

 

It didn’t take her long to find her way back down to the side hall that lead to the main corridor of the evacuation hangar she’d arrived in. About to turn a corner, she heard familiar voices, and stopped, immediately alert. 

“The trip was successful, yes,” It was Hux, voice low but she recognised his clipped tones, a touch of exasperation in his tone.

“And DJ, she proved useful?” Opan, voice quiet.  

“Yes” 

A pause, the quiet sound of a shuffling of feet, as if they were about to move off, then Opan’s voice again, “You know my concerns, General, you have seen her file, she is a mercenary, with family connections to enemies of the old Empire. We've checked out The Jedha connection from the transcript. It seems her father was a monk who left  the Jedi temple so there is a remote possibility.... “

“Captain, you have made your feelings on this matter very clear..” Hux, a little louder this time.

“Sir, I think it would be unwise to let her leave” Opan’s voice was insistent, refusing to let the point lie.

“She will be dealt with, but when and how I see fit. Understood?” Hux snapped back.

“I believe trusting her in any capacity at all would be unwise, especially with the level of access she has had to First Order data systems” 

“I have already told you, she will be dealt with. I wish to hear no more on this matter. I will not tolerate you questioning my decisions in this area. What I do need you to do, Captain, is contact our mutual friend. Tell them it is time” 

The sound of boots walking away, leaving DJ pressed against the corridor wall, rage flooding through her.

 

He would not let her go. And if Opan had his way, she wouldn’t be alive for long. As she processed the news she forced herself to focus on the comforting sensation of the cool pressure of the blaster on the small of her back.  

 

She scanned the hallway and went for the nearest door, using one of her hair clips to unlock the locking mechanism, slipping through as it opened. The room beyond was a small office, deserted and almost bare. Perfect.

 

DJ pulled out the spare data card hidden in her bra. Safer than pockets, but slightly more uncomfortable. Hux hadn’t noticed her swapping the cards over after she’d decrypted the file, first rule of slicing - whatever you are paid to find, keep a copy. Her smile was bitter as she loaded it into the data pad. She had been going to wait until she got back to her quarters, but her anger made her want to watch it now, she may as well see what she had worked hard to provide, even if Hux was going to renege on the deal. 

The picture was grainy, first footage from the turbolift, camera looking down onto their heads. She kept the volume low, but she didn’t need to hear all of what Kylo and Rey had said to each other in the lift, or in Snoke’s chamber to understand why Hux had wanted this footage so much. She fast forwarded through Snoke’s taunting and torture of Rey,  pausing and then rewinding as the lightsaber rotated through Snoke’s middle. Rewound again, the angle of the camera capturing the flick of Kylo’s hand as he ignited the saber. 

And afterwards, back to back, Kylo and Rey together - united against Snoke’s red guards, offering to betray and destroy the entire Order to rule the galaxy with her, and she’d denied him, leaving him for dead. 

_ Stupid girl should have killed him while she had the chance. _

DJ placed the datapad onto the table, almost about to stop the recording, but from one side of the screen she saw Hux approach Ren’s unconscious body, his black coat against the flaming red of the burning curtains. Saw him reach for his blaster, and his defiance as Ren Force choked him, his face distorted in agony. 

 

DJ didn’t feel pity, she was too angry at his betrayal for that. But despite herself she felt understanding. This is why he wanted this so much, why his eyes had glinted with hunger when she’d offered to help. Oh, she’d thought she was being so smart, offering something he couldn’t resist for her freedom.

 

_ Live Free, Don’t Join _

 

All those years ago on Corellia, waking in a cold and empty bed she'd sworn to herself that she would never allow herself to be betrayed again. And she hadn’t, until today. 

Hux had been willing to honour a deal with a nameless informant, until he had realised who she was. That's what she had underestimated - the depth of his hatred of her. He’d just got better at disguising it. 

Waves of shame smashed into her as she remembered how she’d been so eager to show just how how clever she was; How helpful she could be. The whole time she was expendable, Hux laughing at her naivety. She’d known he was a devious calculating bastard. To think that she’d spent even a second  of her life feeling sorry for him made her sick to her stomach.

Now he had what he wanted, there would be no other reason to keep her alive for much longer. 

Especially someone who knew the truth, who could run to Kylo and warn him. Not that she would, she just wanted out. This had never been her fight, she had no part in it. They could slice themselves to pieces fighting over the Order, she didn’t give a damn. Hux’s voice rung through her mind, 

_ She will be dealt with. _

_ Fuck him.  _

_ And me for being such a fool. _

Her head ached again. She needed another drink, and a ship with a hyperdrive. Placing the data card carefully back in her bra she smiled without humour. Oh, she was going to go alright, but she had no intention of leaving empty handed.

  
  



	9. Practicing your name

“Pass?” the stormtrooper asked. From his bored tone it was clear it was the same question he’d asked a thousand times during the chaotic final hours of the  _ Supremacy _ .  DJ presented her bracelet for inspection so he could swipe the clearance pass encoded into its core. As with everything in the Order access to vessels and particular zones within ships was tightly controlled. Opan seemed to have coded hers to allow her access to most parts of the  _ Finalizer _ , and indeed the  _ Supremacy _ . It had even allowed her to go back and forward between the two, but she had concerns about what would happen if she tried to disappear off into deep space.

 

Casting a quick glance at her wrist as she boarded, she wondered if his comment about the explosives had been true, or just a scare tactic. Either way, getting rid of it was on her to do list before she left. When Millicent had sauntered into her room the night before, door sliding open automatically, she had realised that Hux’s cat wore something very similar. It appeared to give her access to all the quarters on Hux’s level of the  _ Finalize _ r. DJ wasn’t sure whether to be amused or furious that she was wearing a modified cat collar on her wrist.

 

The small box shaped shuttle was only a short range transport used mainly for work like this, interfleet travel for officers and techs. It wasn't luxurious, just two rows of seating on either side and open access to the two pilots in front. The internal style was becoming very familiar - utilitarian, monochrome and safety messages in red lettering. Finn’s tan jacket worn over her own black clothes seemed very out place against the colour palette;. An act of fashion rebellion.

“DJ!” she’d just sat down between two sullen and stoney faced officers when she heard a familiar voice call out her name.  _ Kennedy. _

“DJ, isn’t this a coincidence, have you been working on the  _ Supremacy  _ for the General?” Kennedy’s tone was conversational and light, but DJ could immediately sense the impact her words had had on her neighbours. Straightening in their seats, she could sense that their attitude towards her had moved from disdainful to wary. 

DJ nodded, her eyes moving to the young officer sat with the com tech, who was returning her gaze with open admiration.

“Oh sorry, DJ, this is Lieutenant Mitaka. He usually works on the bridge of the  _ Finalizer _ , but we’ve been tasked to do some clear up tasks over here. You too?” 

“Yeah, just making myself useful as usual,” she muttered, her attention more on Kennedy’s companion that the conversation. Mitaka was good looking,  but without the arrogance that would come with age when he realised just attractive he was. For now though, he wasn’t practiced enough to play it cool. It was sweet, although slightly disconcerting after spending time with Hux whose manner towards her seems to oscillate between fury and irritation. 

_ But it hadn’t always been like that. _

There had been a time, once, when he had looked at me in  the same way the Lieutenant was now, she thought, and then let it go. Something she’d heard on the datapad recording came back to her. Something Ren said to Rey in the throne room while the world burnt around them.

_ Let the past die. _

_ Kill it if you have to. _

A narrow smile played over her lips at the thought, Mitaka mistakenly thinking it was aimed at him. It was her little secret that it was because of the comforting pressure of the blaster pushing into her lower back.

 

The ship slowly rose from the hangar floor and exited the  _ Supremacy _ , speed limited by the amount of debris still present in the space around the devastated ships. Within seconds the power cut out throwing the interior into total darkness, Kennedy’s panicked face reflected red in the overhead emergency lighting as the auxiliary power kicked in.

 

“Did we hit debris?” DJ could hear co-pilot ask his colleague, both indistinguishable in their black suits and strangely shaped helmets. All conversation had ceased, only the click of buttons being pressed as they checked systems reverberating through the silent cabin. Aux power would allow basic controls to come back online, DJ knew, but there seemed to be an unusual delay in some of the controls as she watched from her seat near the front. 

“I don't think so, looks like a systems failure, things should....” there was silence from the pilot as the lighting returned to full strength and all displays relit “...and we are back” 

“What’s that?” DJ asked, a quiet but insistent alarm suddenly sounded as an overhead switch began flashing red switch above and behind the crew’s head, obvious from her position.

The pilot looked up, and shook his head dismissively, “Nothing to worry about,” the pilot's manner was calm, “I’m sure it’s just a fault caused by the outage, the impact might have knocked a sensor.”

DJ chewed it over for a second and then got to her feet and walked into the pilot zone as the two men exchanged puzzled looks at the intrusion. This probably wasn’t the sort of thing a member of the Order normally did.

“What’s wrong?” Kennedy called, her expression nervous even as DJ reassured her, “It’s fine, just checking something.” DJ turned back to the pilots, a small trickle of concern growing in her stomach. It was driven by instinct more than logic, but she’d learnt to trust her gut.

“That’s the ion reactor warning light. What engine model is this?” she lowered her voice so the rest of the passengers couldn’t hear.

The young co-pilot scowled underneath his headpiece, ready to tell her to leave them to their job, but the older pilot answered, “It’s a variant of the SFS P-S4. Why?” He had no idea who she was, but there was something about her manner suggested it wasn’t a random question.

“And what’s the reading on the Phase meter?” her voice was calm as she looked back at Kennedy and her friend with what she hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

“Kriff” the pilot stuttered, struggling to keep his voice in control and low. “It’s on 5. That’s the ion reactor, it's unstable, that's what caused the outage. The damage isn’t to the sensor, it’s to the engine” His gaze locked onto DJs, looking for answers or reassurance, she couldn’t tell which. The co-pilot clicked onto the comms channel, feeding back the situation to  _ Finalizer _ control, looking for instructions and orders. 

“It will be the energiser, something has knocked it out of alignment, causing the radiation to spike, knocking out the primary power. Someone needs to get to it.” 

With the energiser out of place they would have only limited power left in the system but, more to the point, the whole engine’s recharge system would be a ticking time bomb. Someone had once told her it was the perfect way to sabotage an First Order vessel. No one had bothered to tell her how to fix it. One thing she did know - they probably had minutes left before it blew. If they were lucky.

“Would you…,” the pilot paused, all too conscious of what he was asking her to do, “Would you be able to try to repair it?” He didn't have clue who she was, but if she could work out the problem, she might be their only chance to survive it. Engine maintenance and repair was simply beyond him and his knowledge, the First Order’s training programme strictly regimenting job role and responsibilities. 

 

A thin indignant voice echoed through the shuttle before DJ could reply, a middle aged portly man in a dark blue uniform struggling to his feet.

“I am Major Pews, and I am the highest ranking officer here. I am therefore in command of this vessel. On whose orders has this course of action being agreed?” His voice was almost a direct imitation of Hux’s, except without the underlying sense of authority or intelligence. 

“Sorry to interrupt Sir” the co-pilot looked nervously from DJ to the Major, not sure who was in charge, “just had word from the  _ Finalizer _ , I’ve explained our situation and well, they ordered me to change course,” he paused, his young face stricken “to 100 clicks beyond the fleet.”

_ So they could explode in deep space, and not take anyone else with them. _

The Major swallowed nervously, obviously regretting having assumed control over a doomed ship. To ignore the order would be insubordination, a punishable offence. But to obey was death. He slowly sat back down. If the civilian was willing to make the decision, she could take the repercussions. If they were still alive that is.

“Is anyone on board trained in ion engine repair?” DJ asked quietly, holding the Major’s stare. The silence that followed spoke volumes.

“Do you know what you are doing?” Pews asked desperately.

DJ shrugged, “Do you have another option?”

 

“It’s under here, move” the passengers stood and shuffled back as the co-pilot pushed in between the seats and began lifting the heavy grey metal flooring panels out of the way. Each panel landed with a thunk, the hole quickly large enough for a body to go through. DJ caught Kennedy’s eyes, the girl’s face pale with terror, and winked as she lowered herself into the crawl space below.

_ All engines were roughly built the same - weren’t they? How hard could it be? _

 

She hadn’t reckoned on the heat from the engine and other machinery, choosing not to think about the warning ion level. All she could do was hope that some internal engine shielding was still intact. The heat wrapped around her in waves as she crawled on her hands and knees toward what she hoped was the right bit of engine space. Thanking Kriff that she’d left Finn’s jacket on her seat, blaster hidden in an inside pocket, she winced as the wire mesh of the crawl way almost scolded her hands. Her knees were a little protected by her leather trousers as she followed the path of coolant pipes which would lead to the main engine space. Or not.  _ Fuck. _

And then, visible through the squares of mesh under her hands,her the familiar shape of an ion recharging system. Beside it sat the ion coupling unit, one end marked and blackened, detached from the black box component beside it. The energiser.

As she wiggled loose a section of the mesh pathway panel up to get access to the damaged engine, fingertips burning, one thought spun through her head on constant replay.

_ How the fuck do I get myself in these situations? _

 

Panel free, it suddenly occurred to her that she had no tools to try and lever the energiser back into the coupler.  There was only one option- brute force and luck. Scrambling across the gap, she lowered a leg awkwardly down and kicked the highly technical and probably explosive energiser, trying to move it back into place. 

“Move you fucker” she swore, teeth gritted as she whacked it again with the heel of her boot.  It only needed to move a tiny amount, but that small gap meant that the recharging unit could become unstable and blast them into pieces. Dragging a hand through sweat drenched hair, she took a deep breath fighting down her growing panic. Dying like this, alone - it had always been her worse fear. It couldn’t end like this, she wouldn’t let it. Summoning all her strength and reserves she kicked again, the familiar searing headache slicing through her skull.  A tiny thump and click as it slipped back into place. 

_ Thank fuck _

Collapsing back onto the mesh panels, ignoring the heat radiating from them, she panted with relief. Something caught her attention as she twisted her head down. A small round device had dropped off the energiser near the coupling unit as it had moved back into place. 

This wasn’t an accident, this was deliberate sabotage. 

  
  


Opan’s pinched features greeted her as she climbed down the gangway onto the  _ Finalizer’s  _ main hangar floor. She thrusted the small device into his hand, “looks like there's a competition to see who can get to kill me first” she growled, walking past without bothering to wait for his reaction. Part of her had been tempted to shove it somewhere more personal on the off chance it had been ordered by him. Unfortunately, she had had to concede it was unlikely. He’d been ordered not to terminate her _ yet  _ by Hux, and he didn’t look the type to go against orders. One other thing she was sure of - it wasn’t Hux. He had Opan at his disposal if he wanted her dead, and for whatever reason, he didn’t. Not yet. 

 

So, it was someone else and she was the target. That wasn’t just paranoia talking - it was logic. It was a small explosive charge, activated remotely. DJ would bet her emerald clips that all the four or five  _ Finalizer  _ shuttles in use that day had the same thing fitted. All someone had to do was just watch to see which one she got on. She pulled Finn’s jacket, bundled in her arm, tighter to her chest. The blaster wasn’t much, but if there was another attempt it might be useful.

As she walked off teams of maintenance and security personnel swarmed around the shuttle and every other vessel in the hangar, lowering her mood further. Not only had someone tried to kill her, they had also screwed any chance she had of stealing a ship unnoticed for the next few hours.

 

“Can we buy you a drink?” A voice called from behind her, Mitaka. That suddenly sounded like the best idea she’d heard in weeks.

 

Officer Level Bar A3 was almost unrecognisable as a drinking establishment. It wasn’t just that the decor was sterile with the traditional black and red colour scheme; It smelt wrong too. Ok, so places like the bars and hotels on Canto Bight didn’t conform to the type, but most cantinas DJ had ever been in stunk like a pissed bantha’s arse. And they were the good ones.

 

The clientiele was also different and not just that they were all dressed in various First Order uniforms. They were all human. Most cantinas in the galaxy were like a mixing pot of the hundreds of various species and races that populated the systems. Mon Calamari, Twi'lek, Neimoidian, more kinds than you could shake a blaster at, all uneasy companions. She’d asked Kennedy about why Order members were almost without exception Human back on Crait, but the girl had simply repeated what sounded like an indoctrinated line.

_ First Order members all share the same values of stability and progress. _

But at least they served whiskey and Mitaka seemed to be paying. 

 

They found a table, boringly clean and unsticky. DJ ignored the stares of the other Order officers as they sat. Even after a few days she’d grown used to being an object of interest, she might even miss it when she went back to blending into the crowds in some backwater planet. 

“So… you and the General… still just friends?” Kennedy asked, never one to hold back on the personal chatter. But this question seemed to have a motive. 

“Yes. Why?” DJ replied, only understanding when she followed Kennedy’s eyes to the bar where Mitaka stood. He did look remarkably good from the back she had to admit, cocking her head to the side to appreciate the view. 

 

Drink and conversation flowed, all three coming down from the adrenaline of the shuttle incident in their own way. Kennedy couldn’t stop talking, thanking DJ again and again. Mitaka made self deprecating jokes, as he smiled and sipped his beer his eyes never far from hers. DJ drank, wondering what her life could have been like if things had turned out differently. Could she have worn one of these uniforms, surrounded in easy friendship with shift mates, more family than colleagues? If she’d turned to the First Order when her parents had died, rather than turning to away from everything and everyone? It was a question that she couldn’t answer so it was a question she was better off not asking. 

 

Somewhere near the back wall of the cantina a melodic rhythm started up, pulling Mitaka’s attention away from their conversation. Swallowing the last of his drink  pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and tucked in his shirt with an half-cut attempt of dignified Order exactness.

“As a decorated Lieutenant of the First Order, may I ask you to dance?” he asked with mock formality, his grin breaking through as he extended his hand to DJ.  

“I don’t really dance,” she replied, watching him through her lashes as she sipped her whiskey. Cantinas were for drinking, not dancing.

“Just one. Come on, it will be fun. I’ll show you the steps?” he pleaded. DJ threw a desperate look at Kennedy who just grinned and gestured for her to say yes. With an exaggerated sigh she stood, taking his hand and following him to the small dance floor. Apart from them it was empty,  too early in the evening for inhibitions to be defeated by alcohol.

 

Mitaka took her hands in his gently, his skin warm against hers. He was good, demonstrating the steps in time with the fast rhythm. His feet moved lightly across the black polished floor, this way and that, with a speed that DJ tried, and failed, to copy. 

“That’s it, you’re doing well,” he encouraged.  DJ’s eyes flared with slight annoyance at being patronised, but softening when she looked up and caught his playful smile. He was sweet; Much too sweet for her. 

The song ended, another beginning immediately, this one softer and slower - designed for an entirely different kind of dance. Before she could resist, Mitaka pulled her close into him. One hand lay on the bare skin of her shoulder, the other on her hip, sliding across the smooth silk of her shirt. 

“You are so beautiful.  You saved my life, please let me show you how grateful I am, ” he purred, dipping his mouth to her ear. DJ’s eyes grew heavy with the slow beat and warm glow of the alcohol coursing through her body. They were so close she could feel the heat of his body as his hand slid from her hip to cup her arse. A small wisp of warmth began to travel down through her stomach as his fingers gently kneaded her flesh. The urge to curl her arms around his shoulders and relax into his embrace grew stronger every passing second. She could just let the music lead her to an evening of enjoyable diversion.  

_ It wouldn’t have been the first time. _

His hand brushed coils of blonde hair away from her neck, his lips lowering slowly to kiss her neck as her head gently nestled onto his shoulder. Looking up she gazed into brown eyes dark with booze and desire. 

_ But his eyes are green. _

The thought was like a blaster bolt, shattering her calm. Pulling out of his grasp, she muttered an apology, turning away without meeting his eyes. 

_ I need to get off this ship now. _

 

She couldn’t think of him. Not like that. It was tiredness of course. Tiredness and stress and anger. She was simply angry at him. That was the only explanation why, for a moment, she had wanted it to be his arms around her, not Mitaka’s. His lips on her, his eyes looking down at her with want. Fine, back on the Supremacy he had smelt good. And she heard him plotting to kill her. She was mad.

Whiskey seemed like the only solution. 

Heading back to the table she swore as she spotted a familiar figure sitting at their table with a cruel smile playing across her lips. Seren. 

 

“Hux never permitted me to fraternize with other men, but he’s possessive over things he cares about,” the dark haired woman drawled as DJ took her seat. DJ eyed Seren as she refilled her glass from the bottle on the table and considered a response. She had no reason to play nice and no concern about making an enemy.

“And yet from what I’ve heard, I understand he ended whatever it was you had together. How long were you together? A month? Two?”  she frowned, as Mitaka returned to his seat beside her, warily eyeing them both. He didn't understand what had just happened with DJ but even through the alcohol he could tell this wasn’t the time to find out.

“It's more a hiatus while the current campaign against the Rebels is won. Any other small unimportant diversions will quickly cease.” Seren replied, her uniform immaculate as she straightened her jacket cuffs with a haughty sneer. Well that was two things her and Hux had in common.

“No time? Yes I can imagine scheduling in the occasional blowjob must have been tricky for him.” 

Seren bristled. Across the table Kennedy's face looked troubled. For a member of a military organisation she seemed remarkably frightened of confrontation.

“DJ saved our lives today, our transport shuttle almost blew up and she stopped it. I think it was  ..” the words came out in a rush from the com tech, desperate for a change of topic. 

“Damage from debris,” DJ quickly cut in, “nothing to worry about, nothing I couldn’t handle.” She said softly watching the other woman’s face for any telling signs of guilt. But Seren didn’t even seem to hear her, too consumed with making her own point clear.

“Whatever you think you have with him, it will end and I'll be back in his bed. He's an officer of the Order, I'm from an old Imperial family. Whereas you're a...what was it again? Someone told me, one of the Supremacy officers who saw your capture. Ah that’s it ...a mercenary and a whore from nowhere.” She smirked, “every man likes a bit of rough sometimes, don't they Mitaka?” Mitaka looked very much like he'd really like to be somewhere else as Seren reached over to  stroke his arm languidly, “but they tire of the stench of it quickly.” 

  
  
  


DJ looked back impassively, no emotion other than a slight rise of an eyebrow as she read Seren.  It had been a strange demonstration of possessiveness, touching Mitaka like that. Had she done that with Hux, tried to claim him in any way she could? Possessiveness borne from a lack of confidence she sensed. This was too easy. 

“You surprise me” she said quietly, taking another sip of her drink, “I mean, you obviously know the General a lot better than me, but still, I wouldn’t have thought he was the sort of man who would want his private affairs discussed so widely. With his subordinates” Seren’s smirk froze into something more akin to a grimace.

“But, as I said, you probably know how tolerant he can be. How forgiving he would be to anyone who might tarnish his reputation.” DJ added, permitting herself a small smile as Seren paled. 

“You see, you can call me a whore all you like, but I’ve never been someone’s dirty little secret.”

_ Stupid little girl. _

Stupid or not, she recovered quickly, Seren’s anger rushing to the surface and exploding through. “When the Order rules all the galaxy there will be no refuge for scum like you. We will burn you down” she yelled, her chair flung back with a crash as she stormed out of the bar.

Kennedy and Mitaka looked at each other in shock that soon dissolved into nervous laughter. 

DJ knew she should let it go. She wouldn't be here after tomorrow, it didn't matter. But something drove her out of her seat. She picked up the bundle of Finn’s jacket as she trailed Seren.

 

She hadn't gone far. DJ found her leaning against the wall of the corridor, face streaked with tears. DJ’s comments had hit home as she had known they would. As they were meant to. Seren had been indiscreet, she knew, even while her liaison was in progress with Hux - desperate for people to know that he had chosen her over all others. And then he had stopped it. With datapad transmission. He probably hadn’t even typed it himself.

 

DJ stood and watched Seren fall apart. There was more to this than just ambition, than a lost chance of promotion, that much was clear. Seren had felt something for him.

That made her weak and DJ was driven to feed off that pain, to balance and soothe  her own anger and suffering. Seren was there in front of her, and she needed to pay. 

Dropping Finn’s jacket to the floor she aimed the small blaster at Seren, the woman's eyes widening with fear as she advanced. It was beautiful to see her own fear reflected back in someone else's eyes.

“I have no idea whether you had anything to do with the little shuttle incident today, probably not - I don’t think you are smart enough. But here’s a warning. You come anywhere near me again, you say my name,  you even think about me the wrong way and you will pay for it in pain. Understand me? I will make you hurt in ways you didn’t even know were possible. And then I will throw you out an airlock. Understood?” DJ pushed the muzzle up under the tech’s chin, relishing the pain she knew she was causing. Seren’s body  was quaking with fear as she nodded, tears dripping down her face..

 

DJ released Seren who stumbled free, rubbing her throat as the pain from the blunt muzzle slowly ebbed away. “You’re a crazy bitch. You and Hux deserve each other, he’s as cold and heartless as you are.” She spat the words out, watching DJ warily incase she attacked her again. But DJ’s desire to inflict pain had flashed and faded like light from blaster fire. All she felt now was tired.

“Trust me, you have no idea what I deserve,” she muttered  as she walked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux ponders Mitaka's future career


	10. Say it to your face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing seems to make sense to Hux anymore.

It had become their little game, and his favourite part of the day. Bare feet softly padding across  the polished floor. Without turning his head he knew she was behind his chair. Fingers combed through his hair, running down to the nape of his neck, Soft, teasing, his tiredness disappearing with each stroke. His hair was always smoothed back and perfect, until she had her way with it; Messing it up was part of the game. Her touch was gentle, warm and sent shivers of pleasure through his body. Now he understood why Millicent purred when stroked, stretching up to meet his hand. 

The path of her fingers trailed down to his shoulders, followed by her lips tenderly grazing his cheek. Just the right side of ticklish, a chuckle escaping her lips as he groaned in response. Tight muscles relaxed under her ministrations.  

“Still working?”

He nodded, weary eyes scanning the piles of paperwork, reports and petty authorisations that seemed to dominate his every waking moment. Her hands slid under the neck of his shirt and down his chest, fingertips smooth against his cool skin. His breath caught, his body responding and luxuriating in the sensations.

“Can I do anything to distract you?” her voice was low, teasing. Strands of her blonde hair curtained his cheek as she leant forward, hands slipping lower. 

“You are distracting me,” a smile breaking across his face despite his best attempts at hiding it. She had developed many ways to be pervasive and he loved all of them.

 

_ Chirp chirp chirp  _

 

Hux woke, body jerking up with a start. Slumped over his desk, he lifted his head and winced from aching neck muscles and a mind foggy from sleep. And then the ache, the familiar emptiness. 

_ Chirp Chirp Chirp. _

Hux pressed the comlink icon on his console, cutting off the alert mid chirp, leaving the room silent and still. 

Alone. 

No. The soft rumbling sound of Millicent’s breathing from the sofa was audible over the open comlink’s static. He’d permitted himself to fall asleep. Shame flamed his face at his weakness. There was still so much to do. The fleet’s path to Coruscant to be decided, sourcing of shipyards for the damaged fleet. Giving in to exhaustion was less than he expected of himself. Perhaps that's what the dream had been, his mind's way of punishing his weakness. 

“What is it?” Fatigue coarsened his tone, tongue dry and sticky in his mouth.

“Sorry Sir, you have asked for an update on the shuttle incident,” Opan’s tone was wary.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“As we initially concluded, the incident was indeed sabotage. We found three identical devices on the other  _ Finalizer  _ transports used today on the  _ Supremacy. _ They were remotely activated detonators, with enough charge to displace the energizer, without causing an blast that would raise suspicion. We may have discounted any ship loss as due to damage from debris.” Opan took a breath. He knew what Hux would ask next. “They were First Order models.” 

Hux’s silence was ominous across the comlink as Opan continued.

“It appears that DJ was the intended target Sir  Although we don’t currently know why.”

The clockwork of his mind slid the cogs into place. The plan had been simple then. Fit the devices, watch her movements and then wait for the engine to explode. Hux eyed the readouts and reports that littered his desk. He was the head of the greatest military organisation in the galaxy, regardless of Ren’s delusions, and yet someone had disobeyed him. Tried to kill her without his authorisation. This  wasn’t an attack on her, it was an attack on his authority. That could not to be tolerated.

“Have you apprehended any suspects?”

“No, Sir, I’ve had the responsible maintenance  team severely reprimanded for their failure to check the ships thoroughly, but the security coms hadn’t caught any suspicious activity in the hangar. The number of personnel active in the area have made it difficult. Captain Phasma will put her stormtroopers on high alert in case of any repeat attacks.”

“I want the stormtroopers who were on duty in the hangar sent for immediate reconditioning. And have Phasma report to me as soon as she is next on duty. I have yet to fully debrief her since her recovery.” Hux dragged a hand across his face, wiping sleep from his eyes. Just another thing on the to do list that only grew by the minute. 

And where was Ren? The man child who had murdered his way to a throne he appeared disinterested in actually sitting on? Probably sulking about a scavenger girl with more taste than he’d expected. That had always been Ren’s weakness, a lack of emotional detachment. Hux would not make the same error.

“So,  _ Captain _ , you don't know who was behind the attack, or why it happened. Do you know anything of use at this stage?”

“Sir, without DJ’s intervention, the ship would have been lost Sir. She….” Hux could hear the pause as Opan swallowed. He was taking his time to frame his next words carefully, “was rather hailed as a hero. Due to her role in repairing the engine, a number of passengers who were off shift invited her for a drink. She’s currently in Officer Recreation Area A3 I believe.” 

Hux’s hands clenched the edge of his desk as the words sank in, knuckles white.

_ She was in a bar? On his ship, with members of his staff? _

“Who?” 

“With Com Tech Kennedy, who she worked with on Crait if you remember, and Lieutenant Mitaka.”

Hux was silent.

“Sir, is there anything else you would like me to do?”

“I would like you to do your job before I find someone else to do it for you. Find out who was behind this attack!” severing the comlink with a slap of his palm across the button.

_ Mitaka? _

Lieutenant Mitaka,  assigned to his bridge, had showed as much natural aptitude for leadership as a mouse droid. The little rat faced Lieutenant might find his career taking an unexpected turn, with new responsibilities for sanitation. If he was lucky. Hux poured himself a glass of whiskey from the nearby bottle and gulped it down, the burning in his throat strangely calming.

Hux’s suite was fitted with full surveillance capacities that covered most of the  _ Finalizer _ , barring maintenance and storage facilities. Links to all camera droids, and any trackers that had been fitted to particular individuals could be accessed if required. Ren’s, fitted to his belt, had saved the man’s life on Starkiller Base. It was currently out of range since his departure to Kriff knew where. DJ he could locate,  switching his console over the tracker. A little red dot pinpointing her position in ORA A3. He had no mental picture of it, he’d never been there. Never been to any of the social areas of the ship. No time, or appetite, for socialising with his inferiors. 

After he’d been informed of the incident, he’d half expected her to turn up in his quarters demanding to know whether planned the whole thing himself, eyes wild and flaming. 

Lip curling, a mental image flashed bright and sharp. He could send a security team down to drag her out, march her back and lock her in her quarters. Teach her a lesson. Teach her that she was a prisoner, and should have the decency to act like one.

No one ever escaped from a star destroyer, especially someone fitted with a tracker. Giving her assess clearance throughout the ship just highlighted his control over her. That's what he'd thought. It just demonstrated his power over her. He’d never considered members of his very own crew would want to socialise with her. They were members of an elite, well trained and professional fighting force assigned to the most prestigious  ship of the First Order fleet. Whereas she was what exactly? Mercenary? Murderer? What had she told them about herself? Not the actual truth of course. No, she'd weave in enough facts with something so convincing it sounded true - like she had done to him.

Three years ago. It felt like a lifetime. He been riding on a wave of pride that work on his  Starkiller base was finally underway. His great vision was going to be realised. And her? A quiet word with his chief of staff indicated she was the abandoned girlfriend of a more junior officer. Poor man hadn’t been seen out of his room, taken suddenly ill. 

Standing on a balcony under the dark sky ablaze with stars, her eyes with the beauty of the night. Shy perhaps, he’d thought. Preferring the still night air to the noisy reception event through the doors behind her. He was supposed to be in that room, not out here staring at a woman he’d never met, whose lithe figure had entranced him. Definitely not one of the whores who had come with the arm’s dealers and rich Imperial sponsors. There was a hard knowing look they all shared that was absent from her features.  She’d drank her champagne a little too fast - he’d thought at the time to calm her nerves and hide the fact that she felt a bit out of place. 

Oh, he had believed a lot of things about her, glancing again at the little dot on his screen. All of them wrong.

“ _ Kote, darasuum kote. Te racin ka'ra juaan kote. _ ” the words hung in the night air.  The accent was Core Worlds. .   
“Glory, eternal glory. The stars pale beside our might.” He’d translated with smile, “you speak Mando’a? It’s a rare language”

She’d turned then and caught his gaze. All dark eyes and a crown of  unruly curls caught up with green clips. “No, I found a book of their history on a long trip once, not much to do. It had some songs in it, that one stuck. Beautiful language though.” Her smile was open, friendly as she took another sip from her glass, eyes never leaving his. From deep within something bubbled up through the stress, the tiredness and impatience of his day. Something he’d struggled to name then, settling for a word that had seemed alien and strange. Happy. He had felt, in that moment on the balcony, happy.

“And I suppose the quote isn’t quite appropriate - it’s your might afterall. You are General Hux aren’t you?” 

“Please call me Armitage,”  Hux cringed, remembering how he had demurred at the praise - but how pleased he had been. Normally small talk bored him, but with her it had been different. Every smile and laugh like a prize won. He’d ignored the silent presence of his aide pressing him to mingle with the rich potential donors from various systems he should have been befriending inside. And then, after more wine and more talking, she had stretched up and crushing her lips against his. And he’d been lost.

His father would have laughed himself stupid at his naivety - his reedily voice echoed through his head even now, so long after his death.

_ Stupid, weak-willed boy, taken in by a murderous whore who’d only fucked you as part of her job or because she felt sorry for you. _

His hand clenched around the glass of whiskey, calming his breathing. The familiar feelings of rage, hate and still, even now, shame threatened to overwhelm him.

It would be so easy to give in to that voice. Too easy to become the man that his father had been - a slave to his need to hurt, to destroy for pleasure. A man of feeble intellect driven by rage and cruelty. But Hux knew himself to be more - he was a rational being. Undertaking a logical analysis of the facts, testing all available hypotheses.  As much as he wanted to hate her, had hated her for three years, logically it did not make sense to kill her. She’d simply and calmly shown herself to be of value, giving him the things he needed - information and advantage over his enemy. 

But she had shamed him, perhaps that was unforgivable. He knew what his father would have done, a man who gloried in the fear and domination of women. Brendol would have taken what he wanted and when she was of no further use, then he would have put a pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger. Or left her behind, crying and bleeding as she watched him leave; Dragging her screaming son after him.

 

The glass smashed into the wall across the room, amber liquid slowly dribbling down the black surface. Millicent started in surprise, her disapproval of the rude disruption to her rest clear in the arch of her tail as she jumped off the sofa. She stalked out the room, her collar sensor opening the door, so she didn’t even have to break her stride.

As the door closed softly behind her, Hux was sure he’d seen the door of the turbolift opposite slide open, the figure of DJ and someone else walking out, a little unsteadily. A click on his  console brought up camera feed and audio from the corridor.

“My security clearance wouldn’t get me up here without prior authorization normally. I didn’t realise how important you were..” the voice belonged to a man. Tall, well built, but face turned away from the camera. He sounded impressed, slightly wary but drunk.  _ Mitaka _ . Hux could end his career in seconds. The man was right to be wary.

Hux grabbed his jacket from the sofa and buttoned it up quickly, smoothing his cuffs as he watched the screen. 

“It’s OK, my room’s just down there.  Look, thanks for walking me to my quarters, and thanks for the drink. It was kind. But it’s been a long day, and I think I should get some rest,” DJ’s tone was friendly, but firm. Her hand was on Mitaka’s chest, barring his way gently from continuing down the corridor.

“Are you sure? I thought for a moment there back at the cantina we had a connection” Mitaka smiled, in a way he probably thought was charming. 

DJ shook her head, “Thanks for a nice night, but I’m not interested. Say goodbye to Kennedy for me though, Ok?” 

Hux had seen enough, pounding on his door console till it opened he came almost face to face with the couple. DJ’s face registered surprise, quickly mastered into a look of defiance. Mitaka looked horrified, his face paling, emphasising his youth and status.

“General, how nice to see you. Met this nice young officer today, thought we might go to my quarters.” She drawled, grabbing the Lieutenant’s arm as he looked wildly from Hux to her. 

Hux forced himself to look impassive, not daring to wonder whether he was succeeding or not.

“Sorry, didn't you know who I was?” she smiled at Mitaka as he blanched,  “I'm one of Hux's little pets, I’ve even got a collar,” she was suddenly overcome with giggles that failed to reach her eyes.

 

“If you want to avoid being stuck in a cupboard for three days I recommend you leave.” Hux ordered, not bothering to consider that the comment would make no sense to his subordinate. His tone alone had been enough to make the officer flee into the turbolift. Neither watched him go.

“You're drunk,”  face twisted into  a sneer. DJ staggered slightly, hand on the wall to keep herself upright, tightening her grip on a tan leather bundle.

“I am, it’s been a shit of a day. And for your information that officer was quite happy in that cupboard, thank you very much.” The giggles had gone, replaced with a coldness that matched his own. 

If she had been a member of his crew he would have at least had psych tech records to give him at least some idea what was going on in her head. Or he could send her for reconditioning. Instead he was standing in a corridor having a conversation he didn’t understand with a woman he no idea what to do with.

“I was looking for Millicent. Have you seen her?” 

“No, I haven’t seen your cat,” confusion on her face for a moment, but then replaced with something harder.

“I’ve done the job you asked me to do, so I want to go tomorrow” It was true, he’d almost promised her that in return for her help on the  _ Supremacy. _

So why did it still felt like a blaster shot in the back? Hux drew himself up and looked down at her with a curl of his lip.

“In light of the current situation, I have decided that you should remain here. If someone was trying to kill you, that is an attack on my authority and I want to know who was behind it.”

“That's not what we agreed. And fuck your authority, that bomb was meant for me, not you. I’m not going to stay here and act as bait.” she  drew closer, matching him sneer for sneer. “But you were never going to let me go.”

She hadn't framed it as a question; She'd had never trusted him in the first place.

“You still seem to be under the impression that you are here of your own free will. You’re not. You also appear to forget that you are still to answer to the First Order for the death of Keros. The man you murdered in cold blood.” 

“I give you Ren on a platter, and I get nothing in return. You are unfucking believable.” they were almost nose to nose now, eyes boring into each other, the fury in hers bright  like fire.

“You’re still alive, for the moment at least. I would have thought that was something to be grateful for.” His tone was dismissive, verging on cruel. DJ started to turn away her face unreadable.

“And, from what Opan tells me, the Guavians have a price on your head so I would have thought you would rather stay here.” Hux revelled in the chance to demonstrate his intelligence sources. 

“Bala-Tik’s better company,”  she started down towards her room, ignoring him.

“Did you fuck him too?” 

Hux hadn’t meant to say it, the words surprising him with their bitterness.

Her hand struck him across his cheek, as she swung around. The sting of the blow brought sudden tears to his eyes.

“Fuck you,” face carved into a mask of hate. “Oh, sorry, no, that’s what your crew is for from what I hear.” she turned and stalked away, more steadily than he expected. Some of her drunkenness had been an act. What else had been?

Even after the door of her quarter’s had closed behind her, he stood unmoved.

He would not tolerate that behaviour in anyone else. She posed a huge security risk. He had the information he needed. And yet, he could not set her free.

_ All because of a dream. _


	11. Don't let me drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome visitor provides answers.

_ Never pass up the chance of hot water. _

Terin had told her that. Hot water -hard to come by and washes away more than dirt. He wasn’t good for much, certainly not the slick slicer he’d bragged he was, but he had taught her that.

He’d also taught her to never trust, and never need anyone. She’d learnt that by waking up in an empty bed in some backward system. Oh,  he’d been washed away alright, drifting off into the current to someone else. Someone less griefstriken by the death of their parents in a Resistance attack. Someone less complicated and broken.

DJ shook the thoughts away, concentrating on the warm flow of perfumed water across her skin and hair. Shower over, dressed and with her other clothes worth taking folded and ready to go, she sat back at the terminal built into her desk and checked her progress.

The data card had almost reached capacity. The code she had crafted was slipping through the First Order systems, sourcing the data files, copying them and then wiping all trace of its existence. Someone had tried to lock down the system terminal in the room so she couldn’t access it. And she’d had to give back Hux’s data code cylinder,  but she’d set up a back door wedging open the system clearances she needed; No way she was leaving empty handed.

Sipping the cold cup of caf beside her, she had bit of time to kill. A tingle of curiosity tickled her fingerstips as she typed up another data query. It was all irrelevant really, but she still typed in the query. 

Opan’s question before Crait still niggled, she’d meant to look into his personnel file but hadn’t gotten around to it. And maybe, it might tell her something about the attack on the shuttle. Maybe there was something that she had missed - perhaps his loyalties lay beyond Hux to another master.  _ Or maybe I’m just really nosey, _ she smiled as she tapped in the last line.

Twenty minutes later she had an answer. But not the one she had been expecting.

Her mouth curled into a contemptuous smile. Hux had played her well,  she couldn’t deny that. Like one of those little puppets she’d loved as a child; He’d been pulling her strings, making her dance for his amusement. 

Time to cut the strings.

Opan hadn’t been part of Hux’s entourage when they had met three years. His face had been unfamiliar, and she was good with faces. But until she had accessed the files, she hadn’t known that Hux had reassigned all his personal staff the moment he’d returned from Bastatha, bringing Opan into a key position and decimating the careers of those he’d relieved of duty. 

_ So that’s why Opan had been concerned about the timing.  _

He’d been trying to connect the dots - figure out if she had been the catalyst to Hux’s actions to fire and demote his previous team. He’d been wondering if she was going to be the death of his career, although she doubted he would have been able to connect all the dots back to the true reason.

Because Hux’s continual threats were empty.

According to the records nothing untoward had happened on Bastatha. There was no order for her arrest. There was no galaxy wide search for her still in place, there never had been. As far as the official records showed, Admiral Keros, distinguished hero of the First Order, had died of an unfortunate ‘allergic reaction’. 

_ Fucking unfortunate, given he’d ended up in pieces over most of the other guests.  _

The General had covered the whole thing up. 

Sipping the cold cup of caf, and wishing it was something a hell of a lot stronge, she lent back in her chair, Her fingers strummed the desktop in thought, working through the dots. 

_ Why cover it up?  Why hide the murder, and hide her role in it?  _

It was obvious when she thought about it, the pieces falling into place. His anger, his fear she would talk, when she arrived. 

Because if Keros was murdered, then there would be an investigation . And that would implicate the woman who Keros was seen with just prior to his death. The woman who had been in the company of General Hux, esteemed commander of the First Order, the night before. Who may have  been seen accompanying him to his rooms that same evening.

Hux would have looked complicit in the murder of one of his own Admirals. Questions would have been asked, his career possibly damaged. 

So he'd hidden the truth and got rid of anyone who might have put and two together. She was the last loose end.

DJ frowned, fingers stilled, because not everything made sense. It still didn’t answer why he had used it to threaten her since she had arrived, why bother? If he didn’t want loose ends, he could have just had her killed. Phasma had offered, Opan was practically begging to do it.  

But she was still alive.

He was toying with her, letting her think she had a chance of freedom and then taking it away. Teasing her with the threat of a formal execution and being hunted down. That wasn’t the actions of a cold, clinical leader, that sounded more like personal revenge. 

_ Maybe this had nothing to do with murder, and a lot to do with pride. _

The frown deepened. That’s why he had dismissed all his staff, in case anyone had known, had seen him as weak, sentimental, emotional. All the things he hated. And maybe that was why he hated her now, why he had trapped her in this no man’s land. 

The man she had met three years ago had been proud, aloof, and maybe some of the initial attraction had been the challenge. To see if she could charm him, seduce him. It was never part of the job she’d been paid to do, that had never been her thing. No, but because he had been beautiful, cold and distant and so above everyone around him. He’d been the quietest man in the room, watchful and hard to read. She had wanted to know what made him work.

DJ smiled as she remembered her impressions of him. Ambitious in spades, proud, definitely arrogant. But also furiously intelligent and somehow they had connected, for one night. 

_ My name is Armitage.  _

His first name. The smile froze, an ache in her stomach growing. How had she forgotten? No, that wasn’t the right question. 

_ Why had she remembered? _

She’d slept with others since him, not many but enough over the last few years. Their names were lost, if she’d ever asked in the first place. But she had remembered his.

And there was more.

He was from Arkanis. It rained. A lot.  She'd remembered that, when Kennedy said she was from the same system. He hadn’t talked about a family, and the echo of his  anger, shame and sadness still remained. Drank tea, tarrine tea, which she hated and they had laughed about his love of the bitter drink. 

_ They had laughed.  _

Another memory, curled around him, playing with his hair, strands soft over his forehead. A mock growl as he had grabbed her wrists and rolled her over, kissing her face, her neck, moving lower.

_ Fuck. _

Unbidden tears pricked her eyes as she sat, the weight of unexpected sadness growing heavier. The Hux she’d met in the hangar, the man who she had slapped last night was harder, bitter and angry. Almost  a stranger, a golem. Worse than a stranger. There was no laughter, no softness.

 

But it didn't matter. Someone wanted to kill her and, even if it wasn’t him, he'd given her no sign he felt anything more for her than contempt.

She hastily wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. He’d used the lie about the arrest warrant to force her to stay and play his little games. And it had been her excuse to not leave.

_ She was a fool. _

Ten years ago she’d waited for a week in a squalid apartment waiting for Terin to return, until her credits and her gullibility had run out. Ten years later, and she was still a fool.

Was she really waiting for him to come to her? Push her up against a wall, dragging a gloved thumb across her lips as he leant down to kiss her?  Tell her how much he wanted her? The heat pooling between her legs told her the answer.

Cursing her stupidity, she grabbed a hair clip and forced open the latch on the band around her wrist. Her hunch had been right, no one put explosives in a cat collar. The thin metal clip snapped it open in seconds. Disabling the tracker had taken mere minutes. 

No more excuses. 

No more playing along, no more waiting around for something to happen, for proving just how clever she was.. It was time to go. Time to remember who she really was. Get outside of all these politics, these war games. She owned allegiance to no one. 

What was it she had said to Kennedy? She always left. 

Time to take her own advice.

  
  
  


DJ didn’t look around as the door slid open with a hiss, focused on tucking the completed data card into her trouser pocket for safe keeping. Millicent had free range of the entire floor, coming and going as she pleased. The ginger creature would stalk through her quarters at her own convenience, tail high. Curling around her legs during the night, a deep purr vibrating through her as she settled in close. DJ sighed, that animal was the only thing she was going to miss.

“Come for one last stroke have you?” she said softly as she twisted in her chair, a grin frozen on her face.

Phasma filled the doorway, almost surreally large in the confined space of her room. Almost impossibly shiny, the light bouncing off her mirrored armour. In her gloves she held a short baton. The pose wasn’t threatening but DJ felt her blood chill. Last time they had met was on the  _ Supremacy  _ when the Captain had offered to execute her. It seemed unlikely she’d come to apologise.

DJ stood up slowly and faced her visitor, “What do you want?” There seemed little point in feinting politeness.

Phasma didn’t speak, simply walked further into the room, peering through the other doorway into the bedroom beyond. They were alone. 

DJ moved slowly backwards towards the sofa, putting space between them again, her eyes watching the Captain’s every movement. Old habits fell into place, the familiar hyper alertness brought on by adrenaline surging through her veins..

“What are you doing here?” DJ tried again, keeping her tone even, not letting fear taint her voice. For someone who’d apparently fallen into a fiery pit only a few days ago, she looked fine. Although the armour could be hiding anything. Something in the way she held herself suggested an injury still; Perhaps she was favouring her right side, but she looked more machine than human.

_ Shit, had Hux detected the data download and Phasma was here to finish her finally? _

“I’ve always despised women like you who spread your legs for any man in a pathetic attempt to survive.” Phasma finally stated, the voice obviously female but in no way feminine. 

“Ok…” DJ kept her voice and face neutral, as she processed words that made no sense. A spot of random character assassination seemed a strange reason for a visit.

“Because they tire of you, and then you must die” Phasma’s voice through the helmet was deep, only slightly feminine in timbour. 

DJ’s eyebrow arched as she shook her head, trying to comprehend what Phasma was stating so seriously.

“Sorry? What? Hux has tired of me? Spreading my legs?” DJ wasn’t quite sure she was hearing this right.

“Yes. He has ordered me to terminate you.” That sounded entirely possible, except for the reason. Something was definitely weird. 

“Because he’s tired of fucking me?” DJ replied, slowly. Still struggling to get her head around the conversation, although the threat Phasma posed was still disarmingly real.

“Spoken like a whore. But yes.”

DJ’s flashed at the insult. Then a sudden inspiration hit, trying to buy herself some time to think of a plan. 

“Oh my, are you sleeping with Hux?” DJ’s tone was filled with mock incredulousness. 

“What?!”

““Fuck… are you sleeping with Hux? Is that why you are here? Another of his jealous ex’s? Wow, he has courage, I will give him that…” Dj cocked her head and pretended to appraise the Captain. “Did he use grappling hooks to bring you down? Did you take the helmet off or leave it on?” she winked.

“Don’t be disgusting.” Phasma hissed, flipped the banton until it opened up to its full size, the dull silver terminating in a sharp point at either end. 

It looked definitely more intimidating now. 

_ Looked like it wasn’t just her character she wanted to assassinate.  _

Keeping her talking was DJ’s only option. “So someone told you I was sleeping with Hux. Which I’m not. But if I was, why would that matter to anyone. Unless I was somehow getting in the way.” DJ’s tone was serious again,  her mind racing to figure out the truth. She had no way of seeing Phasma’s expressions to know if she was on the right track or not. All she could see was a wildly distorted version of herself reflected back in the armour. 

DJ shook her head sadly, “If you had just said Hux wants me dead, I could have bought that...but then you wrecked it. See that was a rookie mistake. With lies, always stay away from the detail.” 

Phasma was working off bad intel, from someone else, not Hux. Someone who had ordered this attack. But who? 

“And you were behind the shuttle? Willing to take out some of your own to get me? I can't see Hux authorising that.” DJ kept her eye on the extended baton, her mouth drying as she spoke from growing nerves. That thing looked deadly and she was half the size of Phasma and her only fight training had been in bar fights.

She had to think. Maybe if she could work out who had ordered this, she could think of a way to stop it before she was kebabbed. 

If not Hux, then who? Was Phasma working for Opan, or someone else?

“Ah, so you caught me in a lie. No matter. You will still die the same.” Phasma’s voice was measured, slowly spinning the banton with both hands. “Scum like you should probably just be shot, but I thought I’d have some fun first. Then throw the body out of an airlock. No one will ever know you didn’t just run away.” she sniggered,  “but with order comes pain. Are you ready for yours now?”

“Wow, really? That’s the line you are going to use? No, I’m not ready for the pain, it’s bad enough having to listen to you talk.” DJ glanced at the sofa beside her, two steps at the most.  _ Doable. _

“So go on, tell me, who wants me out of the way? It won’t matter, you’re about to kill me anyway.”

Phasma shook her head at DJ’s attempt at playing for time, but answered with evident pride.

“The Supreme Leader”

“Kylo? Kylo sent you to kill me?” It all started to make sense, Kylo had jumped to the obvious conclusions based on what he had seen that morning in Hux’s room.

_ But why would he want me out of the way, he wasn’t even here? _

DJ was no threat to him. Unless it was because of Hux. To isolate him? To hurt him?

That look he’d given her that morning as he’d taken in Hux’s dressing gown. Seren had had the same expression. It was jealousy, it had to be. Kylo had been jealous. No, there had been something darker hidden in his eyes as well. Possession. He wanted to possess his General. Rey had denied him, Ren needed someone by his side, someone loyal, a companion

_ A lover even? _

And DJ was in the way.

 

But if she was to beat Phasma, she needed much more. There was only one way. DJ gritted her teeth and brought her hand up, fingers curved as if she was hailing her, calling the Force into her. The feeling of its power as she released her mind out and into Phasma’s consciousness. The shock of the connection seared her brain, a piecing agony ripping through her skull. It had always been like this, but through the pain, she found her answers. She almost felt like she could see through the chrome helmet, to the woman inside. as the Captain clutched her own head in agony. Staggering with the pain, DJ broke the connection.

DJ had hoped the Captain would be weak-willed enough to be knocked out by the intrusion, but she had been too strong for that. But she had found answers at least. Phasma had her own reasons alright to be in her room. An ambition that had cost her family and her people their lives to fulfill it. The lives of everyone who stood in her way. But that hadn’t been enough, Phasma needed more, always more.  _ Hux. _

Phasma wanted to be at Kylo’s side at the head of the First Order. Her need sang through her like a clarion call. And there were dark secrets, shameful secrets that she had hidden in the deep recesses of herself. 

“How the…” Phasma shook her helmet to clear her head as she felt the other woman leave her mind.

“You'll find I'm full of surprises,” wincing with the pain, DJ forced herself to dive for the side of sofa before Phasma could recover fully. Thrusting her hand between the cushions she pulled the blaster she had hidden  the night before. Panic made her shoot too fast, her aim wide. The blast bolt missed Phasma’s shoulder as the Captain lunged towards her. A flick of the baton knocked the blaster out of her hand as DJ ducked and rolled just out of reach. They stood staring at each other. Phasma’s every move was calculated, exact, unrushed as DJ panted in barely controlled fear.

“Sorcery won't make you any harder to kill”

Phasma was right about that, DJ’s force use was untrained and unskilled, the cost of it draining her energy more than she could afford to admit. Her gamble might have lost her the game.

The familiar hiss drew both women’s eyes to the doorway. 

“Captain, stand down!” Hux drew his blaster as he strode through the entry way, the corridor empty behind him. He was alone but aiming directly at the back of Phasma’s head. There had been no hesitation DJ realised. But this wasn’t just about her. 

_ Oh shit. _

“Hux, leave now, get out. It’s not just me she’s after” DJ hissed, catching his eye for a split second.

“What is going on? Phasma I said stand down! I did not authorize this. ” he shouted as she pivoted away from DJ towards him, rounding behind him as he trained his pistol on her head.

“No, General, I think you should stay here, with your whore. I never thought of you as the sentimental type. Your father certainly wasn’t.” Phasma said coldly. She backhanded the banton into the door activation panel, sparks flying as it shorted out; Preventing his escape.

“The Supreme Leader originally wanted me to remove her, and allow you the chance to prove yourself worthy as Grand Marshall, but I think I have a better idea, I will kill you both.” the voice behind the mask was mocking as she regarded the two figures in front of her. She’d already proved she was invincible to fire, what did they think they could possibly do against her?

“Phasma, I am your commanding officer, put your weapon down!” Hux’s voice was losing a little of its authoritative tone, his face paling. 

Phasma tapped the baton into the palm of her hand, taunting him. 

“General, do you really think you have the courage to fire that pistol? You’ve always got others to do your killing for you. That’s why Ren needs someone like me by his side.” Phasma’s tone was contemptuous as she turned her head to DJ, “did he tell you what happened to his father? I poisoned him, on his orders. He’s always been too scared to do what needs to be done. Unlike me.” She swung the baton around into an attack position, readying herself for the endgame.

“Really? You couldn’t even kill Finn and a girl, what makes you think you can take me?” DJ goaded, drawing the Captain’s attention back to her, provoking her to advance in anger. Hux aimed and fired, the bolt bouncing uselessly off her armour. Phasma twisted back, her reflexes perfect. The side of the baton struck him across the face,  throwing him against the wall in a crumpled heap. 

Phasma turned back to DJ and moved forward again, ducking to avoid the chair DJ flung at her head, trying to buy her time to scramble to her weapon just out of reach by the desk. Phasma was bigger than her, and better armed, but she had one weakness to exploit, something that had flashed across her consciousness when their minds connected. Phasma’s dark secret, her shame, seared into her mind.

“Did you tell Hux and Ren about the shields? You, the great warrior, a coward? So brave, so strong, the fuck you are.” DJ moved slightly to the desk, watching for the impact of her words. “Did you tell them how your cowardice destroyed Starkiller Base? Does Kylo know just how pathetic you are? Would he want a weak woman like you at his side?”  Phasma roared in fury, spinning the baton towards DJ, thrusting wildly. DJ ducked and dove for her weapon, only to find it knocked out of her hands as the tip of the baton hooked the muzzle and flung it into the wall by the door, too far for Hux to reach from where he lay. 

Before DJ could react, Phasma lashed out again, using the baton this time as a spear, stabbing the blade into DJs side. Searing agony ripped through her as her legs buckled, dropping her into a heap against the desk. Phasma was about to deliver one final blow to finish  her off when Hux’s voice caught her attention.

“You dropped the shields? It was you that cost me the Base?” spat Hux, his breath coming in pants, pain etched on his face under a trail of blood.  “I always knew I should have had you killed years ago when Cardinal begged me too. I thought you were worth keeping. Like a rapid animal. My father’s little pet creature. He despised you of course, a savage from a backward system. Coward” The taunts hit their mark, pulling Phasma’s attention to him and away from DJ as she clutched her side. She could only watch as Phasma  raised the baton to strike him through, his only defence a thin blade he’d pulled from his sleeve, held out in front of him, a look of grim determination and hate on his face. 

_ No, there was one chance. _

Her blaster was out of reach of arms reach, and she didn’t know if it would work but if she didn’t try they were both dead.

Calling on the spirit of her father, a Guardian of the Whills, a prayer into the stars. Summoning all before her, calling the Force from inside her that connected her to all around her, she concentrated it all on the pistol by the wall. It twitched for a second before sliding back along the black floor and into her hands, unseen by Phasma.

_ Neck _

He hasn’t spoken, but she heard the word as a scream inside her mind as she pulled herself  up onto her feet. Almost falling onto the Captain, clinging onto the armour before she could be shaken off, she ripped her helmet away from the black rubber neck piece.  It was the only weak spot. Thrusting the small muzzle into the gap, onto the exposed neck, she fired. The sudden dead weight of the huge warrior almost pulled her off her feet as Phasma toppled to the floor, red seeping from between the silver plates of armour.  

“Fucking hell” Standing unsteadily, agony flooded back. Eyes unfocused with pain she could see the blur of her hand, the palm red with blood pulsing from her side.

“Oh Fuck.” she moaned, her legs crumbling beneath her as the light began to fade.

A distant voice calling her name, as arms caught her.

There was warmth, and there was that familiar smell again, of spice and wool and leather. Pain too, but distant now. And beyond and through it, something else surrounding her; love.

Fighting against the dark, on the edges of her memory, there was something important to say, but the words kept slipping away.

“Armitage, I didn’t...” she whispered, but then they were gone, floating away into the night. She could feel the soft caress of hands in her hair, like when she was a child, soothing her to sleep. Someone calling her name; Her real name, not her silly made up one she’d used to hide behind after Terin. So long since anyone had called her that.  But there was no hiding anymore, she was D’ara of Jedha. She felt safe, she was home.

D’ara smiled as the blackness took her.


	12. Like you do

 

She looked surprisingly tiny, wrapped in the bacta suit, surrounded by a myriad of machines. Medical droids hovered in the corner of the room, ready to intercede if required, throwing a gentle hum over the silence of the room. Hux watched her sleep.

They weren’t alone, a small team of medics stood  nervously in a white suited row at the back of DJ's room. The General had never visited the medical facilities before. His taciturn  presence made them tense and wary. The patient had arrived as a critical case, hover stretcher rushed from the General’s upper floor. 

The clothes they had removed suggested she wasn’t a member of First Order crew, no tags around her neck, only a gold pendant they had removed and stored, along with some unusual hair ornaments. No one asked any questions when she arrived, nor when the General had requested medical support in his quarters for a light concussion, bruised ribs and superficial cuts. And now he had come, staring silently at the woman in the bed, face unreadable.

The chief medical officer found herself checking and rechecking her diagnostic datapad as she stood beside him, speaking carefully and precisely. 

“The patient was brought in 6 hours ago with a puncture wound to her lower right abdomen. Significant loss of blood due to the puncture of a kidney and artery. An emergency procedure was conducted to repair the damage, with the patient being placed in an artificial coma to aid bacta recovery.” her voice was quiet, but steady. 

“Are you sure the wound is clean?” Hux did not bother to look at the medic as he spoke, standing in his usual parade rest pose, gloved hands gripped behind him.

“Yes, Sir, no signs of poison, or infection,” she responded.

“Are you willing to stake your career on that?” Hux turned his head briefly to give her a cold stare. The chief medical officer’s confidence wavered. She gulped nervously and shook her head, “I’ll check again Sir. But she is doing very well, considering her condition when she was injured. Her vitals suggest that she was suffering from exhaustion at the time of the attack, do you know anything that may have caused that?”

She worried that the question may have verged on the impertinent, a conclusion  supported by the General who simply stared back coldly in reply. A faint blush of embarrassment stained her features as she stumbled to continue. “We expect she will make a full recovery. Shall I contact you directly when she wakes?” 

“No”. The word was sharp. He gave the bed one last look and turned, as if to leave. There was a pause and without looking back he spoke without looking at the medic. “You may send Captain Opan an update if her status changes.” And then he left.

 

It had been an error in judgment to come, he chided himself as the turbolift ascended to the bridge. Seeing her in the bed had done nothing to dispel the memory of her blood, dark red and warm, staining his hands as he had held her, shouting for help. His name on her lips. Her smile as her eyes closed and she lost consciousness. His hands clenched, regretting that his gloves stopped him from digging his nails into the flesh of his palm as the thoughts overwhelmed him.

He had thought he was going to lose her. In the pit of his stomach there was still an echo of unfamiliar emotions running through him; Making him almost delirious with their intensity. Like when he knew Starkiller base was lost, but somehow different. Sharper.

And then he had found the data card. It had slipped from her pocket as she had collapsed and he had caught her, dragging himself from the wall where Phasma had knocked him down.  

A brief scan of his datapad, as he had stood covered in her blood, told him all he had needed to know. Files detailing Order design specs and transporter route details, information the Rebels would pay good money for. He’d thrown it at Opan as he had stalked back to his quarters, angry that the junior officer had been right all this time.  He’d refused her request to leave, and yet she had been about to run, betraying the Order. Betraying him. 

_ Maybe I drove her to it. Maybe I could have given her a reason to want to stay. _

He discarded the thoughts with a curse. No, he was not to blame. He was General Hux of the First Order. His word should be law. As for her, he’d been fooled once, three years ago. Not again. Not by a woman of no honour, and so many secrets. The data card, the sensor-proof holdout pistol she had been armed with - a perfect weapon for an assassin he sneered. The Force. 

His mind kept replaying again and again the blaster sliding across the floor into her outstretched hand. Force users didn't frighten him. It was sorcery, a trick he had seen too many times to be impressed by it. Most often it was used to inflict pain on others, to control them. Like Ren and Snoke had done to him time and time again.

This time she had used to uncover Phasma’s dark secrets and use them against her. Just the thought of Phasma’s treachery brought a bitter taste to his mouth.  _ Bitch. _  The Captain’s body had been thrown out a garbage chute with the rest of the  _ Finalizer’ _ s trash. Primitive scum; He'd known all along Phasma’s loyalty was forged solely to serve her ambition. She had always aligned herself with the strongest person in the vicinity, as she had done on Parnassos, destroying her tribe to follow his father, Brendol. And when it had suited her better, she’d killed him at Hux’s request. With poison - DJ, whatever her sins, did not deserve that death.

Phasma had betrayed the Order on Starkiller base to save her own skin, and would have killed him to advance her career; driven by the  lure of being at the top. Hux could understand that lust for power. But he had never, would never, betray the Order.

Betraying the Supreme Leader? That was an entirely different question. That Ren had wanted to kill him hadn’t surprised him, many times he had thought that Ren’s madness might end his life. But this was the first time that he’d tried to do it underhandedly. It had been almost cunning. Ren had alway been driven by the whims of his emotions, like a wild animal; Never premeditated, done without thought for consequence or outcome.

To have ordered her killing as a way of controlling him was worrying in its forethought, its strategy, but ultimately misjudged. DJ, D’ara, whatever she called herself, had been useful in uncovering information to his advantage, but Phasma’s attack had come too late to prevent that.

If the attack had been successful, well, it would have just removed a distraction. 

_ A distraction who tried to warn me and saved my life. _

Hux straightened his cuffs, smoothed down his uniform and calmly and deliberately cast the thought aside. 

In his mind there was a room. And in that room there was a box, and in that box he put his feelings, his longing.  He could not open it now.

Whatever madness had overtaken him over the last few days, Phasma’s attack had to remind of him of what was at stake. Everything he had ever worked for. 

Nothing could be allowed to compromise that. 

To be installed as Grand Marshall under Snoke had been his ambition, that now seemed petty. But now he could be Emperor. Everything he had ever wanted. Lost in thought, Hux envisioned himself in fine robes, the assembled masses of the Order calling his name as he took the throne. 

_ Emperor Hux. The most powerful man in the galaxy.  _

And by his side? 

_ No one. _

Ren’s time would soon be at an end - he had enlisted Phasma to do his bidding and failed, but Hux had a far more powerful ally. 

  
  


The star destroyer  _ Finalizer  _ was a massive and impressive demonstration of all the First Order had achieved. Grand Admiral Sloane, hero of the Empire, and guardian of its legacy since the Battle of Jaddu, patted her grey hair, tucking a rebellious strand into the tight bun as her shuttle approached the vessel. Even at almost 75 years, she had not permitted herself to succumb  to the laxity of civilian life. No longer on active service, she had still held herself to the strict standards that she had always envisaged for the Empire’s successor - the First Order.

The immaculate uniform she wore was more ceremonial than functional.  She'd distanced herself somewhat from the day to day working of the Order for some time. 

No, she corrected herself, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The decision had not been hers. 

She had been forced back to the Unknown regions as Snoke had risen to power, watching colleagues fall as he established his ruthless control of the Order. Armitage had warned her of Snoke’s plans; Plans that left no room for those of the old regime who might stand against him. 

Instead she had been left to watch from the sidelines as Armitage had taken the post of General  from his father and formed part of the very pinnacle of the Order's leadership. But that trinity was now broken with Snoke’s death. 

And when Armitage had called she had come.

 

Sloane had not seen him for some time. As the shuttle’s engines rumbled into the landing bay she wondered what sort of man he had grown to be. There had been set backs for him, of course, and perhaps he had a little too much of his father's coldness to be a charismatic leader. But no matter. One should always focus on being feared, not loved, she had always believed.

That he was still alive though with a father like that was an accomplishment in itself. Her accomplishment in some part she thought with pride. She had been his shield, his cornerstone. Sloane permitted herself a tight smile, the memory of Brendol’s bloated face white with fear when she had threatened him.

_ “Touch the boy again and I will have you gutted like the slimy fish you are. He is your son, he deserves to be brought up as such!”  _

The threats had worked, the boy had grown into a intelligent, ruthless and resourceful man, as she had always hoped. But not only he had survived, he had flourished where so many of their counterparts and  comrades had fallen to Snoke’s cruelty.

Sloane could find no pity for the father who had paid the price for his violence with a gruesome end. Armitage was the closest thing she had to a child of her own now, but the pang of warmth that surprised her with its intensity was quickly mastered. Neither of them had been the sentimental type, it seemed inappropriate to begin now. 

Ignoring the ache in her joints as she stood with help from an aide, she walked carefully down the steps, to find Captain Opan giving her a crisp salute in welcome, a unreadable expression on his carnivorous face. 

She’d known Opan for years, he’d worked with Hux’s father Brendol and survived. That spoke to the man's intelligence and wits. Although she’d had many differences of opinion with him, she’d always respected Opan. That was why she had asked him to provide regular intelligence updates since he had been reassigned to Armitage. Sloane had always liked to keep her ear to the ground. Nodding politely in greeting, she had the same thought that she always did on seeing him again - that he always reminded her of a hungry animal. 

“Welcome back, Admiral Sloane. I hope your journey was not too difficult. Shall I take you to your quarters to freshen up after your journey?” he enquired respectively. Something in his eyes convinced her that her instincts on receiving his last communication had been correct. Opan was troubled. And if he was troubled she wanted to know more before she met with Armitage..

“I have no need to freshen up, it has hardly been combat conditions. But Captain, I wondered if I might have five minutes of your time before  you take me to the General?”

  
  


The suite was everything she'd expected of the man she knew. Elegant, minimalist and indicative of a character who valued order and control over frivolous extravagance. Exactly as she would have wished it. Their meeting was warm, but not overly demonstrative, Armitage giving her a brief handshake, his other hand grasping her arm, to signal his affection. Neither found expressions of sentimentality easy or natural. 

Armitage’s manner was welcoming, however, as he bade her sit and his droid gave her a glass of her favourite tipple - Corellian Rum. Sloane’s eyes lit up with pleasure. He had remembered.

Neither had the appetite or time for small talk. There was no pretense between them as they discussed Snoke’s death and Ren’s assumption of the leadership.

“Coruscant? It seems an unusual choice for the Order. A capital in the Core Worlds, with our power base  in the unknown regions? I thought your vision was to avoid a planetary capital, and the pitfalls and politics that comes with such an arrangement, like the corrupt New Republic?”

“It would not have been my choice but with the destruction of the  _ Supremacy _ that vision may have to be revisited.” Hux looked grim, “but it speaks to his ambitions and pretensions perhaps? He has always glorified the memory of his grandfather, that sad Vader, who succumbed to sentimentality and the same man who made a mockery of Ren on Crait. Perhaps Kylo now sees himself as the equal of the Emperor instead. Especially given his murder of Snoke.”

“His murder? I thought…” Sloane prided herself on being rarely surprised. But this she had not known; Opan had not obviously been privy to this information. “Kylo killed him? Do you have proof?” Her eyes blazed as Hux gave a curt nod.

This could change everything, she mused. It made their grab for power no longer a coup but into a legitimate action. It was the answer they needed if anyone in the Order questioned their authority to take control. 

“And how did you come by this evidence?” she asked, suspecting she knew the answer. Opan had not been entirely uninformed.

“The Supremacy was fitted with camera droids and backup data systems which were accessed prior to scuttling the ship. It showed Ren’s murder of the Supreme Leader and him offering to rule the Order with the savanger girl Rey at his side.” he said, his mouth twisting in hate at the memory of the grainy footage. Sloane did not reply, but maintained her calm expression as Armitage failed to hold her gaze. One of the benefits of having known someone since childhood was that she could always tell when they weren’t telling the full truth.

Armitage sighed, his expression slipping into a frown of disapproval. “You are apparently after another answer. Answers that Opan had no right to provide to you. I am increasingly considering that he may be better suited to another position.” he replied, gruffly.

“Opan is loyal. And has a keen eye for risks and complications. Which you have apparently been ignoring,” she chided.

“She is none of his business. Nor, of yours.”

“And this attack by Phasma? What role did she play in that precisely?” 

“The target we believe. However, she overpowered the Captain and shot her,” he sipped his drink, his grim expression giving nothing away.

Sloane knew there was much he was not saying, but Opan had filled in some of the gaps. And she’d learnt Armitage responded better to silence than questions.

He fiddled with the perfect cuffs of his uniform, picking an invisible loose thread. “She had shown herself to be useful. Certain items found in her quarters after the attack have indicated that I may have overestimated her trustworthiness. Her usefulness may be at an end” 

“Permanently?”

“I have yet to make a final decision. Possibly,” Hux sighed in irritation, “but given the reason I called you here, this matter is of little interest compared to the bigger picture.”

“As long as you don’t allow yourself to be distracted from your goal”

“This goal, as you so simply put it, is everything I have been working towards for my entire life. So, no, I will not allow distractions of any kind prevent me from achieving it. I have always known what needs to be done, and have had the stomach to do it. As have you. I will not allow myself to be weakened by anything. Or anyone.” Sloane nodded, reassured slightly. Hux had so far appeared blind to the risk she posed, and there were other issues that Opan had raised that would need addressing, but Hux’s answer had mollified her a little. For now.

The door of the suite slide open with a hiss and Captain Opan stepped through, slightly hesitant, holding his datapad clasped to his chest.

“Sir, Admiral. Apologies for the interruption but I thought you may wish to have an update on two matters.” Glancing at Hux Sloane saw him incline his head, giving the man permission to speak.

“You may speak freely in front of the Admiral” he said quietly.

“Thank you Sir.” Opan glanced at the black datapad, although she suspected had already memorised whatever he needed to say.

“Firstly, the patient is awake and will be released from the medic bay in the next few hours. She will make a full recovery.” Sloane watched Hux carefully, but his face gave nothing away as Opan continued.

“Secondly, my team and I had look through the data card you recovered from her room,” Opan glanced at Sloane for a second. They had spoken of this.

“It’s...it's very cleverly done, best I've seen.” Opan’s voice verged on the expressive, his tone impressed..

Hux sneered as he took another sip of his drink.”I didn't realise you gave so much respect to traitors,” his laugh was hollow. He smirked at Sloane to share his disbelief at Opan’s obvious admiration of DJ’s method of betrayal. 

“Sir, that's the thing. It looked, looks, genuine. It's been very carefully done, any Rebels who got hold of it would be delighted by the intell. But it's a fake.”

“I don't understand,” replied Sloane, sitting forward in her chair in interest.

“I mean it's real data, but the route data is at least a year old, the design specs are either for decommissioned ships or models that never got past design. The personnel lists are particularly clever. The names look genuine, are genuine in fact. It looks like a list of operatives working undercover for the Order in a number of systems. But in reality the names are of Imperial officers who served during the attack on Jedha. 30 years ago.”

Sloane and Hux sat in silence for a moment, both caught up in their own thoughts. Hux was the first to respond, waving his hand dismissively with a shrug, “So she couldn't access the current data so made it up. I see nothing of interest.” 

“Sir, if I may. That was not the case. She had full access to our systems, she basically had to go past the current data to find this and then manipulate the date codes so it looked new. It rather throws into doubt some of the assumptions that I may have formerly made about her. She may have been planning to leave, but it doesn’t appear that she was about to betray the Order,” he said, eyes firmly on Sloane who met his gaze impassively. Hux dismissed him, as Sloane studied her glass, deep in thought.

 

_ She had reviewed Opan’s research. It was meticulous - as always with the Captain. There were gaps, Hux had been thorough but Sloane had to agree - his conclusions appeared sound. DJ, or whatever she went by, had murdered a high ranking Order official in an incident three years ago during which she had met Armitage. He had then subsequently hidden the crime and her involvement in it. When she appeared days ago, he had neither had her immediately executed or arrested for for formal questioning. _

_ Sloane had thrown down the report with a troubled sigh. “What is this woman like?” _

_ “Intelligent, resourceful. She has provided some useful intel from Crait that we would have missed otherwise,”  she raised an eyebrow in surprise. That sounded like Opan admired her skill. “And I believe the General worked with her on gathering information from the Supremacy. Although I have not been privy to that,” he concluded, his eyes hooded. He had his concerns, they had been ignored. _

_ “And from what you have shown me, she is possibly a hired assassin, as well as a slicer. Almost undoubtedly a spy for the Rebels who has been attempting to establish some kind of relationship with the General who has been too blind to see the risk. And who has been permitted to roam free around two ships, and now has been caught attempting to steal Order data and affect an escape?” Opan nodded silently. No wonder he had been concerned enough to come to her directly.  _

_ Had Armitage gone completely mad? _

_ “Is he fucking her?” she asked bluntly. Opan’s pale face  was as inscrutable as ever as he considered the question seriously. _

_ “No I have no evidence of that,” he paused, his forehead puckered as he struggled to find the right words, “but, may I speak freely?” she nodded, “But when I entered her rooms after Phasma’s attack, the General was holding her. She had been wounded, was bleeding badly. The way he was looking at her….and then when we found the data card….” his expression told her everything she had needed to know. There was little time to lose.  _

 

_ This had to end.  _

 

She asked herself the same question she had then. What had Hux considered the worst betrayal? That she had stolen data to finance her escape, or simply that she had attempted to leave him? 

“An interesting development” Sloane’s voice was low, watching Hux’s response carefully. He seemed lost in thought again, staring at the half empty glass in his hand.

“But does it make a significant difference to your decision in this matter?” she prompted softly, pulling him from his thoughts.

“No...she had been useful. May have been of some tactical advantage in the next phase. But no matter. I did not ask you here to discuss personnel matters with you.” His tone was brusk, as he caught her eye.  

So why did she feel like he had been trying to convince himself as much as her? 

_ He doesn't know.  _

The realisation hit her in the stomach. The explanation for his behaviour was clear. 

_ He has feelings for her. Maybe even loves her. And he doesn’t know. _

And there was guilt too, guilt that she’d helped to create someone who was so unused to love and human emotions that he couldn’t recognise them in himself or in others.

But Sloane had dedicated her life to a cause far larger than herself; Far more important than one individual. Regardless of her feelings, or anyone else’s, that cause had to be her primary focus. She knew exactly what to say.

“Personnel? My dear Armitage, I’ve known you for too many years. And I knew your father. I had hoped you would not inherit his weaknesses, his distractions. Maybe I was wrong. Although I hope I’m not.” 

She knew that only years of practice allowed him to keep his face impassive when she compared him to his father in such a way. It was a low blow and it pained her to say it. But regardless of this new development, she was still adamant that Armitage had to be persuaded to make the right decision. 

And if he wouldn’t, then she would. 

“Given the other calls on your time, why don’t you let me resolve this distraction  for you?” Sloane smiled, watching as his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what she was doing, but if he refused, then he would be admitting that her concern was warranted. She had left him little room for refusal. That had been the point of course.

“After all, I am well versed in dealing with personnel issues, as you well know. I would be more than happy to aid you in this little matter. Opan can advise me on the right course of action”

A small muscle in his cheek twitched. the only sign that his mask of indifference was cracking every so slightly. She couldn't give him time to think.

“And you have far more important things to think about. Like your destiny,” her voice was quiet, “ and perhaps after you are Emperor we can find you a girl from one of the royal families from the loyal systems. They will be falling over themselves to provide a princess to give you heirs.”

It was barely a nod, and he wouldn’t met her eyes but she still breathed out a small sigh of relief when she saw the tilt of his head in acquiescence.  

“I have allowed this issue to remain unresolved for too long, you are right. I had promised her freedom, and given Opan’s findings, I am inclined to permit her to leave, without further censure.” he finally caught her gaze  “Leave, Rae, not terminated. I don’t want her harmed. Understand?” Hux’s voice was cold, his eyes hard. He would brook no opposition, and his use of her familiar name had not escaped her. It was a sign that he was no longer a child to be directed and guided. A warning tingle at the base of her spine hinted that she would be advised to remember that in future, or face the consequences. She smiled, hiding everything.

“Excellent. And you are right, we have other, more important, things to discuss. Like how to kill the Supreme Leader” Sloane’s expression was untroubled as she spoke the words that could cost them everything.   

  
  
  


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	13. And no way to be sure

DJ stretched her tight shoulders as she stood in the turbolift, wincing as the almost healed wound pulled against a bandage just above her hip. She still felt like she had been a Rathar’s plaything, but she was alive. Her energy levels had even returned a little,  and she’d forced herself to work out in the training room Kennedy had told her about. It seemed mad that only yesterday she’d opened her eyes to see Kennedy’s smiling, worried, face in the med bay as she had recovered from the bacta treatment. It had been surprisingly nice to see a friendly face.

There had been no other visitors.

She’d returned to her quarters last night walking past Hux’s suite; Door closed, corridor silent. Walking in, finding the data card and blaster gone. Her necklace and hair clips had been returned at least by the cold but efficient medical staff, and she’d woken to find the cat collar back on her wrist. Her favourite leather trousers and shirt had probably been thrown away - blood stains and Phasma’s handywork had done them in.

At least droids had cleaned up while she had recovered,  the puddle of dark blood from underneath Plasma’s helmet had gone. But not the memory. And not the image of Hux’s eyes on her as she Force pulled the pistol towards her, his face frozen in shock and something else at little too much like fear. He had seen what she had done, what she could do. She was another like Ren.

A wave of tiredness enveloped her as she reached the top floor, the hangover from her Force use still lingering. What it had taken out of her had been immense; The pistol and pushing that deep and far into Phasma’s mind.

It had been the first time in a while she attempted something like that, Force use wasn't that useful in her normal line of work. Slicing and code cracking required a different skill set - data systems did not respond to the Force. Clients tended to respond better to a cheeky smile or a cold blaster in the back..

If her father had been there he could have helped, advised her how to deal with the after effects. He could have told her how to clear her head; The Captain’s memories almost felt like hers now, melded together. The hate, the anger still reverberated through her, the jealousy and desire for power, that’s what she’d been drenched in as DJ had picked through her memories and dreams.

But was Phasma any different than Hux? If she had ever ventured into his head would she find anything else? Hate maybe, distrust. Would she find any echo of the man she’d met on Bastatha? She hadn't tried to touch his mind; He was closed to her. The years of living in close proximity to Ren and Snoke giving him the skills to hide his thoughts from all but the most intense examination.

And the tenderness, the love that had cocooned her as she had lost consciousness, wrapping itself around her? She caught her reflection in the mirrored door of the turbolift and looked away from the hurt she saw reflected back in her eyes. A figment of her own imagination, or deep memories from her childhood.

_He hadn’t come._

Her stomach clenched with a mix of pain he hadn't cared enough to bother and anger at herself for caring.

When she felt completely strong, she’d go. Hux’s bait plan had worked, almost too well, the conspirator and the motives behind the attacks unmasked. If Hux came up with any other dumbass reasons to stop her from going, she’d stab him herself.

The door hissed open,  the shape of uninvited visitor sitting in one of her arm chairs visible beyond. Well two visitors, if you counted Millicent who was lying on the lap of a woman she had never met before.

Attractive and petite, dark skin with lines around the eyes and mouth. Streaks of grey through her black hair pinned back in an immaculate bun. One white streak gave her a distinctive look. Ganthel maybe, given her colouring. Old enough for Empire; The uniform certainly looked a little antique.

She was sitting with the ease of someone cradling a proton bomb, with fur and claws. Millicent had a habit of sitting or lying on anyone that came within her sights, DJ had learnt that quickly, waking to find the ginger animal snuggled into her. She gave the sleepy cat as small grin as she entered the room, skirting past the chairs before returning her attention to the human visitor.

“Don't tell me, another ex girlfriend pf Hux’s? Or perhaps someone else sent by Ren? If you are about to shoot me, could you please take Millicent out of the room? I'm not sure she'd like the noise. She won’t bite if you put her down gently.” DJ smirked as the woman eyed the creature warily.  Walking slowly over to the desk to pour a whiskey she could feel the officer's gaze on her. She offered some to her visitor who declined. DJ sunk into the chair opposite and made herself comfortable, studying the newcomer in silence.

 

Admiral Sloane hadn’t known exactly what to expect. There were the facts from her briefing with Opan of course. Name: DJ, also known as D’ara. No surname known. Human, from the moon Jedha, or what was left of it. Clearly not a member of the Order or with any military background. Her posture was appalling, gait was too loose, hair unruly. She clearly wasn’t First Order material, even though she was currently dressed in standard issue training clothes - black leggings and vest top clinging to an athletic figure. Young, but not too young. Most would think her attractive, striking even.

Sloane returned her calm gaze and decided she was definitely not just decorative. There was a strength and lack of fear in her eyes that suggested confidence and intelligence. Opan had been right in his assessment - smart and resourceful. Sloane had expected nothing less and it made her job simpler.

_This should be easy. Make her a good offer and she'll be smart enough to take it._

“My name is Admiral Rae Sloane. I have known the General for many years. I believe you saved his life. Thank you. ” It was a simple introduction, tone warm, almost friendly.

“It was sort of a mutual saving,” the slicer replied, a little flippant. She had winced slightly as she'd sat down. From Opan’s report she remembered she'd been wounded - they'd been lucky to survive an encounter with such a skilled warrior. Very lucky.

“Ah yes, Captain Phasma. Shame, she had been with the Order, with Armitage, for a number of years. One of his father’s prodigies in fact. She was useful but it appears, in the end, not loyal to anyone but her own ambition.” Sloane tried to subdue a frown, an ache above her eye appearing without warning; A ripple of tiredness flowing through her. It had been a long few days and she was no longer the woman she had once been, she thought without self pity.

Yes, Sloane dragged her thoughts from the pain back to the woman in front of her, Opan’s concerns had been definitely valid. She needed to go.

“What sort of offer?” DJ said softly, finally breaking the silence that had been growing between them.

Sloane paled, her eyes widening as she realised the thoughts had been pulled straight from her mind.

“A small word of advice, if I may, Admiral,” DJ’s voice was relaxed as she continued, “you may wish to work on masking your thoughts before you get within a 100 clicks of Ren.” DJ took another sip her whiskey as Sloane struggled to control her expression of dislike.

Sloane was very infrequently caught off guard, but DJ had succeeded.

“So my dear, you are a Force user? The General didn’t say” she smiled tightly. Armitage had been remiss in not warning her.

_Unless he didn’t know._

“In a small way. It saved Hux’s life. But I don't generally go around making it known. It wasn't long ago that old Imperials like you would round up people like me and put us into death camps.” point made, she went on ,“oh, I’m nothing like Ren but it can effective on the weak minded.” DJ’s smile deepened as Sloane bristled, the barb hitting home.

“And unlike Ren, not loyal to the First Order?” Sloane replied, stroking  the sleeping cat on her lap awkwardly, the soft fur unfamiliar on her fingertips. Another of Armitage's pets. The ache in her head had abated slightly, or perhaps she had just gotten used to it.

Stupid of her not to recognise it for what it had been at the start, she rebuked herself. She'd felt it before in the early years with Snoke of course, but DJ was a gentle caress in comparison. Sorcery, Hux called it with disgust. Witchcraft.

“I have done some work for the Order, in return for the promise of my freedom. A promise Hux has not kept,” DJ said. There was bitterness with the words Sloane noted, “and I prefer to stay out of petty politics. But you are a fool if you think Ren is loyal to anything but himself.”

Her eyes looked a little strained, Sloane decided, flickering dark with an effort  she was trying to hide. The Force use was exacting a cost on the girl. So, not the equal of Ren but perhaps she could have been useful. No matter. Having her thoughts read didn’t frighten her, Sloane decided with a smirk, it just made it easier to get her point across.

“Really? For someone who prefers not to involve themselves in the unimportant world of politics you have managed to offer your services to the Rebels only to seemingly betray them,” Sloane counted off her activities on the fingers of one hand, smile fixed,  “then, worked for the Order, apparently attempt to leave and betray us, only prevented by an attack during which you chose to save Armitage’s life. That rather reeks of the political wouldn’t you think?”

“I do what I’m paid to. Although, the Order doesn’t seem to be paying, so I’ve been trying to leave since I got here. As I expect you know.” DJ replied, her eyes glowing with barely masked irritation.

“And yet you are still here,” the Admiral replied with a sneer, her dark eyes growing cold.

“As I have said, not by my choice.”

Millicent yawned and stretched, Sloane grimacing as cat fur rubbed off on her carefully pressed  black trousers. An overpowering urge to jump up and clean herself would have to wait for now, there were bigger irritations to remove first.

“For a common mercenary, you seem to have made some uncommonly powerful enemies. For some reason the Supreme Leader thought you enough of a threat to get rid of you. Can you think of a reason why?”

“I don’t really care. Why are you here?” DJ’s reply was blunt but it suited Sloane. She’d never been one for small talk.

“As you have probably already guessed, your little slicing work was discovered after the attack. The General wished to have you executed immediately, but since you played some small part in his survival, I’ve argued that you should be free to go. I’m even offering to pay you the 100 thousand credits you were promised for betraying the Rebel’s escape plan as a thank you. Of course, you will be expected to say nothing of anything you may have discovered while here. Agreed?” Sloane sat back, thin smile on her face and waited for DJ to say yes. The girl was a mercenary, it was a sure bet.

 

“You’re lying.” DJ tipped her head to one side, like an animal sizing up her prey - eyes narrowing as she studied the Admiral.  The link between their minds had broken. The strain of it was too much to continue for more than a minute or two, and she had already made the point she needed.

_Don’t underestimate me._

The money was tempting, it was more than she would have got for the card even if she'd found a buyer, and this way she could fly away without fear of getting shot out of the sky. But Sloane was lying; She could tell that without looking into her mind. And no one gives away that sort of money for nothing.

_So why did Sloane want her gone so badly?_

“About the money? No, it’s in Hangar A3 waiting for you, with a ship. I’m sorry, isn’t that what you want, to leave?”

“Yes,” DJ nodded slowly, “but…”

“So you will go then. Good….” Sloane attempted another smile as she interrupted, and was then cut off in turn.

“After you tell me why you are lying about Hux wanting to execute me. And why you are willing to pay so much money to make me go away”

Sloane’s even expression slipped.

“Why would you think that was a lie?” responded Sloane, mouth now a tight line.

Mirroring Sloane, DJ held up her own hand and counted off with her fingers, “Because Opan would have figured out the card was a fake. Because no matter how much Hux hates me, he seems to think it would be more fun to torture me with his little games than kill me. Because you've come along and suddenly I'm being offered the best  deal ever. And finally because I figure he’s about to try to take over the First Order, and as I see it, I'm the best chance he has against Ren. But you want to get rid me. Why?”

“Since you can apparently read my mind, I’ll save you the effort and tell you exactly what I’m thinking shall I? I think that you are a gangster, mercenary whore, who started something three years ago she could to snare one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Oh, Opan has done some digging. You killed Keros, but you had no reason to go anywhere near Hux unless you had another plan in play. Isn’t that was this has been about? Turn up now with some other excuse, pretend to sell out the Rebels, make yourself useful. Indispensable. All the time reminding Armitage of some regretful sordid encounter and try and worm your way into his affections and bed. Use the Force on him until he does exactly what you want. You have been a spy working for the Resistance along.” she hissed, the naked loathing clear on her face.

“I see where Hux gets his charm from. But while listening to your inane speculation and insults  is deeply riveting, you still haven’t told me why you are willing to pay.”

“Fine, let’s make this simpler for you to understand. Whatever you may think, whatever happened in the past with you and the General, no matter what plans you have, you have no part in this story. You are nothing. That's why I want you gone. I want you as far away from Armitage as possible.You are a threat. If he won’t see it, I will, and I’m willing to pay to get rid of you”

“I'm a threat? Frankly, your supreme leader is a deranged madman and you're worried about me? If Hux is about to do what I think he is, do you understand what Ren could do to him if he fails? The power? Hux can never fight against that alone. I’ve seen the evidence, I’ve stood in front of him. He isn’t a man, he’s ….”  she took a breath, trying to calm the panic that had clenched her stomach in fear. For Hux, for Kennedy, for anyone who would stand in his way.

“Ren will destroy anyone in his way that stands against him, who doesn’t submit to him completely. You can’t win this. Tell Hux that fighting him in a direct battle will be suicide.”

“This isn't your fight. Armitage will  have the Order behind him. Behind us. Aside from your betrayal, Hux doesn't need a distraction weakening him now. He doesn’t need your _help_. So, leave while you can, before he wakes up to just how much of a traitor you really are.”

“What? I wasn’t offering my help,”

“Weren’t you? Are you telling me you haven’t tried to help him in every way you can since you got here? And why fake the data card? It’s all been a ruse to get into his affections, so you can activate your plan against him. What was the next stage, get him into bed, get him to trust you with some more fake information and then lure him to some Rebel stronghold?” Sloane spat in disgust. DJ didn’t answer, instead watched as Millicent stretched languidly on Sloane’s lap, almost taunting the Admiral with her furry presence. The  memory of something Hux had told her once stirred.

“You've always been protecting him haven't you? It was you with the sweets, wasn’t it? When Hux was a little boy and sad or scared. You were there for him then, looking out for him, and you still think it’s your job now.” DJ asked, softly. Sloane’s eyes widened with surprise, the question completely throwing her for a moment. Armitage never shared anything from his past with anyone, especially his childhood.  

Even now Sloane could see him as he had been as a boy; Too skinny, too pale, scared of his father and the world he had been thrown into. Always hiding in the shadows until she had believed in him, forced his father to do right by him.

_Wasn’t that what I’m  trying to do now? Protect him, even if it meant protecting him from himself?_

“This isn't personal. But don’t misunderstand me for a moment, I won't have you killed only because the General doesn't want you dead.  But you are no longer useful, and your plan cannot succeed. I have seen straight through you. So leave.” she took a deep breath, mind racing as she thought of how to end this damned conversation and get the blasted animal away from her.

“Take the deal. Those are more credits than anything you have ever earned for a job before in your life. Go. I know all about you, isn’t it what you’ve always done before. Walked away from everything one and everything? Just leave.” Sloane twitched as the cat moved, digging her claws into her thigh, and DJ still hadn’t replied. There was one last tactic that might work, and it was worth a try. Blunt honesty and a little flattery.

“Fine. I want you gone because your plan has worked, but one day soon you will betray him and it will destroy him. Because, as you already obviously know, for some strange reason he has feelings for you. And I will do anything to protect him from being hurt by you or anyone else. As I did when he was young.” As Sloane heard the words leave her mouth she realised in an instant that she had made a huge miscalculation. Damning her stupidity.

“What do you mean feelings?” The younger woman’s voice was dangerously quiet. Pushing herself out of the chair, DJ paced across the room, like a caged animal. Sloane cursed herself again, she had misspoken. She had assumed she had known, and got it terribly wrong. 

  


_He has feelings for you_

The phrase kept spiralling through her head. Feelings? Could she mean that what she'd felt lying in his arms after the attack had been real?

“He’s in love with me?” she growled, spinning on her heels to confront Sloane.

“Yes, I thought you knew, I thought that was the point of you being here….you are a Force user, how could you not know?” Sloane sighed in confusion. DJ laughed without humour, pacing again, this time watched by both Sloane and Millicent.

“I mean, have you actually met the man? He’s kriffing impenetrable. With that sneer and…I’m going to kill him” DJ paused again, hands on hips as her lip curled in feral anger.

Slowly, Sloane started to reach for the blaster under her jacket, earning a glare from Millicent who had been disturbed by the movement and was now very much awake.

“Oh don’t be stupid,” DJ snapped glancing over at her, “not literally. Don’t you know anything about people?”

Her pacing took her to the windows and the blurred stars beyond, the ship still in hyperspace on its path to Coruscant.

“He is kriffing bantha fodder. He has spent all this time threatening me, lying to me, all to keep me here...and he's in love with me?” DJ muttered to herself.

“I said he had feelings, love might be too strong a word ... “ Sloane offered as DJ returned and slumped down in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.

“And then you come to get me to leave because you think that’s what I’ve been here for all along, some ulterior motive?” she stared at Sloane, holding her gaze, “ I’m not a spy. Although, now you mention it, it would have been a really good idea. Do you want the sad truth? Yes, I met him three years ago, and you’re right, none of it makes any sense. I was there to kill Keros. I was paid by the family of a boy who had taken his own life. Keros had bullied him, and attacked him. He couldn’t live with it, and when his parents tried to get the Order to do anything about it, they laughed in their faces. So they found me.” DJ’s glass pn the arm of the chair was empty, but she’d lost the energy to stand and get more. She just wanted to rid herself of a story that she hadn’t, couldn’t, tell to anyone else.

“Hux was never part of the plan, I just happened to see him one evening. He was the most beautiful man in the room and so alone.” DJ looked away as the memories flooded back, “And....he was different then.  Next day, I did my job and left. I didn’t think I would see him again.” she realised that she couldn’t bear to meet Sloane’s eyes - what would have been worse to see in them? Disbelief or pity.

“Did you ever think for a second that maybe I helped him  because I wanted to? I know it sounds sad, but because I wanted him to want me to stay? To actually tell me that. Tell me that he needed me?  But no, every kriffing time, I got threats and hate and those damned sneers, and nothing else. That’s why I’ve wanted to go, that’s why I finally got the balls to leave,  because he gave me no reason to stay.” DJ put her head in her hands, and damned herself for telling this stranger the most personal thing she had said in years.

First Kennedy, now Sloane. She'd be sobbing in Opan's arms next at this rate, talking about a pet she'd lost as a child. 

 

“Even if that is true, it doesn’t change things. You cannot help him, your presence can only hurt him. If anyone found out about Keros., or if Ren tries to use you against him again,” she could hear Sloane’s voice, gentle but firm, “we will win this. He will forget you. He’ll go off and marry some good girl from an Imperial family who will do as she's told and he will care nothing for. Just like his father did.”

“Trust me, there are easier men to love. Go and find one of them.” DJ could hear the pity in her voice and it made her wince. How had she let herself feel so vulnerable?

This couldn’t be her; DJ - don’t join, don’t feel, don’t stay. And still Sloane kept talking.

“Even you don’t betray him, in the end, even if you do love him, it still can’t be enough. I’ve seen what the Order does to people, if it is between having you and the serving Order, he will choose the Order and it will tear him apart. And you will pay the price for it. There is no happy story here. Take the money and go.”

DJ slowly raised her eyes to Sloane and knew every word was true, but that they didn’t matter. She’d been betrayed before, there were worse things in life.

Like regret.  

Because she had walked away three years ago and she couldn’t do it again, not if there was even a chance that he felt the same way that she did. She had to know, even if the answer ripped her to the core.

Sloane watched her stand and leave, knowing that she couldn’t stop her making the same mistake she had made all those years ago.

“If you do this the Order will destroy you and everything you love, just like it did to me,” Sloane whispered, her eyes suddenly wet as the girl walked out the door, her words unheard.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Sway

_ Kriffing hell _

She’d strode out of her quarters with such purpose and determination and now she was standing in an empty black corridor slumped against a wall that seemed to be vaguely humming. Always black in this damned place, no colour except for a slash of red, no joy, no love...

_ Kriffing fucking hell _

Just a minute ago it had sounded, and felt, so simple. Go to Hux, get him to admit his feelings and then, possibly, if required, admit hers.

_ What was my bright idea again? _

_ Fuck _

This is why she always walked away; It was easier. Less confusing. Panic bubbled up through her veins as confusion overwhelmed her. Reaching up she stroked the gold pendant hung around her neck, the one thing that connected her to a home she had never been too and to people long gone.  Nothing was stopping her from stepping into the turbolift and leaving. Maybe she could even go to Jedha, visit the shattered remnants of a moon where no one lived any longer. Desolate. Empty. Somehow it all seemed rather fitting.

Her hand dropped away and she swept away the thoughts. It had been an active choice; This life, this lack of connection to anyone and any place. It was too late to regret that choice, but now she had another one to make. Stay, or walk away. The second had always been easier, except for the ache inside telling her that she would spend the rest of her life regretting it if she did. 

But what could she say? For someone who had prided herself on a witty comeback or a cutting insult her mind was completely blank. All she could see was his face, all pale angles staring down at her as he’d held her on the Supremacy, the full curve of his lips as he had kissed her on  Bastatha.

_ He has feelings for you. _

That’s what Sloane had said, somewhere in between calling her a whore and a spy. 

_ There are easier men to love. _

But hadn’t she spent the last three years trying not to think about how much she had regretted walking away? She couldn’t spend the rest of her life feeling the same way. It was just words. She just needed to find the right words, panic rising up inside her as every word in every language she had ever spoken suddenly deserted her. 

_ “Admiral Sloane has just offered me a 100 thousand  reasons to go, I just need one reason to stay.” _

DJ slumped further until she was sitting on the shiny floor, her head in her hands and shuddered in horror at just how awful that sounded. That was dire. Even if he worked out what the hell she was trying to say, he’d probably be horrified Sloane had been willing to waste so many Order resources on her and try and bargain her down on the price. Trying for romantic, but it was banthar shit.

_ Kriffing arsing fuck _

Maybe use the Force? Force choke him until he admitted he was in love with her? Ren seemed to use it as a tool to get anything he wanted, according to Kennedy. That and the random destruction of anything that was unlucky enough to get in his way. Even now she could remember the pain and hate in Hux’s eyes as he was forced to relinquish command over his armies, Ren choking the life out of him with nothing more than the power of the Force.

_ Because nothing says I love you like coercive physical violence _

DJ pulled herself up and paced the corridor, she had never tried to Force choke anyone in her life and if she did she’d probably be left rolling around on the floor in agony from the effort. And Hux would hate her for life - what few seconds of it would remain to her. 

A spark of hope blazed. Maybe he wouldn’t be there anyway? Perhaps he was on duty, organising the final plans for the fleet’s arrival at Coruscant? She could slip into his room, get into his bed and wait for him. Greet him wearing a seductive smile and nothing else, his eyes darkened with lust as he realised her intent. 

_ No, horrible, horrible idea.  _

Really, really bad idea. Her body still ached with tiredness, she’d fall asleep and he’d walk in to find her snoring or drooling on his pillow while he backed out the room and called security.

She stepped a little closer to the turbolift door, taunting herself with its closeness, with the possibility that she could take Sloane up on her offer. All it would take was one push of the button and she’d be free. And rich. Everything could be hers, she could go back to Canto Bight, maybe even pay for her own drinks this time. She could go and find someone to make her hundreds of pairs of those fabulously soft leather trousers that Phasma had soaked through with her blood. Clothes. DJ swore again, looking down at her black vest, fitted trousers and slip on gym shoes. Before Sloane’s little visit she’d been to the training room and hadn’t had a shower and was still wearing the same sweaty clothes. She gave her underarm a tentative sniff and recoiled, her nose scrunched up in horror. 

So, she had no idea what to say, and she smelt like a rathtar’s arse. 

She couldn’t go back into her quarters, not with Sloane there, she couldn’t face her again. The sensible thing was to go down to hangar A3, take the money and go. No, it was the only thing to do. Staring at her distorted reflection in the incredibly shiny black walls she wondered despondently how many other people had made huge life decisions forced on them because of personal hygiene issues. 

Self pity was fun, but it wasn’t going to help in the long run. Her head snapped up and around. A sound, hissing, distinctive. A door about to open. She couldn’t let Sloane find her here, not after everything she’d said.  _ Shit _ . There were only seconds before the door would open fully and Sloane would see her standing in the hallway talking to herself. There were two choices, and without conscious thought she leapt to Hux’s door and pushed her bracelet towards the security console, slipping in through the gap as soon as it opened. 

_ Fuck _

Hux was there, standing taut and rigid, the dark shape of him visible even in the dimmed lighting. Standing across the room at the windows at parade rest, the blur of hyperspace behind him. Dressed, as always, in black his uniform, hands gloved even in the privacy of his own chambers.  Even from the back, though, she could tell he was somehow scruffy in a way she’d never seen before. His hair looked out of place, falling from its normally slicked back perfection. His desk strewn with papers and a half empty bottle of Corellian whiskey; Half empty glass discarded on the floor near the sofa.

It struck her that she didn’t really know this man. They’d barely spoken since she’d been here, and that had mainly been threats or slicing. Nothing personal. All she had was half remembered memories of one night, and yet here she was, making a fool of herself because someone had told her he had ‘feelings’ for her. General Hux of the First Order, destroyer of worlds.

And this wasn’t her world. She was intruding into a stranger’s space, where she had no right to be. Sloane had been right, she’d never been part of Hux’s story. 

One last look, then go. Turn, then go. So simple. She didn’t move.

“Has she gone?” his voice from across the room sounded weary, broken even. The words had been addressed to the window and the stars beyond, not even bothering to turn around to look at his visitor. He must have assumed it was Sloane. 

There were so many words she could say. So many she had wanted to scream and shout at him over the last few days. But they all stuck in her throat. 

Holding back sudden tears as the wild idea turned into an uncomfortable reality she finally turned to go. She couldn’t do this. Panic overwhelmed her, she had to get out before he realised his mistake.

Hand hovering over the door release button, she paused, a split second decision. Letting her eyes fall closed, she reached out, sending her mind out beyond her and into the room, her consciousness unbound. This time, there was no pain. Only light and warmth. Then, without warning, she found him there. 

The walls he had built up around him had crumbled into the stars beyond. Thinking her gone, he’d let go. Surging around her - swirls of anger, pain, loneliness, and want. So much want, longing and need, drowning out her own with its intensity and sorrow. And in the centre of it all, her name. D’ara. The force of it all slammed into her like a blaster shot, leaving her reeling. Her hand dropped slowly as she opened her eyes and turned back to him, as he spun around and caught her there,  tears glistening in her eyes. 

He looked so vulnerable. Beautiful.  Young.  DJ  could barely breathe, let alone speak.  The right words didn’t matter, only him. 

She closed the distance between them; Not allowing herself to think, only to want. Grabbing him  by the collar of his uniform and holding him close for a second, just long enough to see his beautiful green eyes darken with want, DJ  pulled his lips down onto hers. 


	15. Losing my control

The smear of stars passing the windows in hyperspace usually invigorated him. Direction, purpose, initiative. These were the key factors that had always defined him. Hyperspace was just a visual testament to the galaxy hurtling him to his destiny.

They would emerge from hyperspace soon, to an old Empire rendezvous point on the farther reaches of the Coruscant system. She’d be in the hangar by now, probably counting her credits and her luck, waiting to take off. It had somehow seemed right to hand over the bounty that had been promised to her so long ago in the bowels of the  _ Supremacy _ . She finally had what she had wanted all along.

Hux had learnt never to dwell, emotions were a encumbrance. Suppress, restrain. Starkiller base had been lost, thousands of lives blinked out in a fiery horror. His people. His dream. His project from inception to its one glorious success. _ If you don’t let yourself feel the blow, it can’t hurt you _ , that’s something Sloane had taught him. Physical and mental. Don’t let it in. The loss just something else to place in the closed box in his mind. Soon it would be joined by D’ara.

But not yet. Abandoning his paperwork and reports, he allowed himself a few minutes to drown in the agony. Taunting himself with his pain, curling it around him, feel it claw him apart. Teasing, prodding the wound, tensing against the pain, and yet embracing its sting. He would never let himself feel this way again. This is what losing his control had cost him;  This torment and losing sight of everything that was important to him. And for what? A woman? 

Kylo with his Force sorcery was fooling himself that he knew how to inflict pain. The worse he could do had been nothing compared to this. Hux could torture himself like a master, bringing finely tuned agony.  Letting his mind run through his memories, each like lava on his skin. Her touch. His hands stroking her hair, whispering to her, saying her name, as she lay bleeding on his lap. Dreaming of her and a future that would never be. Each cutting thin and deep, calculated to hurt, to drag pain from his body, but not kill.  He would survive, he would put it away, leaving only an echo. A memento, a warning, to never feel again. 

_ To never love again. _

The thought jarred him. Putting a name finally to the torment. 

_ Love. _

Sloane had been right.  She had been a distraction, but for a few minutes more he would allow himself the agony of being distracted.

The mechanical hiss of the main door to his quarters caught his ear. Sloane had returned. She would not gloat, he knew her too well for that, but she would be pleased that she had got her own way. He had no stomach to face her.

“Has she gone?” he tried to keep the bone aching weariness out of his voice and failed. Tired was his permanent state of being. Only this pain was new..

It took him some moments to realise she hadn’t replied. He turned his head with fatigued slowness.

_ She was here _

Stunned, he  could only stare at her, dumbstruck, his face unwittingly stripped of its usual mask of sneering indifference. 

And then she was there.  Closing the distance between them as he stood frozen, DJ grabbed his collar and pulled his lips down onto hers.  It wasn’t romantic or tender, but filled with need and want too long denied. She pulled away, staring into his eyes, waiting for words that he couldn’t bring himself to speak. But it wasn't just a kiss, it was a question and a challenge. And there could only be one answer.

 

DJ broke the kiss, and pulled away, a sudden awkwardness overwhelming her. She knew what she had felt from him, but now she was flustered and unsure.  He stood speechless in front of her, green eyes blazing with a dark heat. Nerve breaking, just one slight move to go and his gloved hand wrapped around her back, pulling her back to him. He wanted her. 

Her question had been answered. 

Hux stepped forward, meeting her challenge, his hands gently cupping her face as he broke the tension with lingering kiss, soft, almost tentative. The impact was immediate, melting DJ, pooling heat between her thighs. Three years had passed between their first time and now, and it felt like nothing. Oh, but then it had been different, they’d been a little drunk, two strangers, meaning nothing at the time. This was something else. This time it meant everything. Both ever so tightly wound and now unravelling as their mouths sought each other. 

DJ tilted her head up to him, deepening their kiss, as his body pressed DJ against the glass. Cold against the flush of her skin, from the corners of her eyes she looked haloed in starlight. DJ moaned into the kiss as her body responded to his touch, her need; Her arms wrapped around his back, fingers leaving bruises as she pulled him into her until he broke their kiss again.

He began to unbutton his leather gloves, the movements precise and infuriating slow; More erotic than she had ever thought possible from such a simple task. She clasped them, stilling his work, “let me,” she whispered, slowly undoing the buttons and pulling off each glove. Stroking down each long pale finger as they were released, before casting the gloves aside. Bringing them to her lips, gently kissing and marvelling in their beauty. Strong, slim fingers. She shivered with need to feel them on her skin.

Hux groaned at her touch as his hands left her lips and started down a path of their own. His touch was soft as he explored her. His fingers ghosted over her arms, the barely-there touch causing shivers over her skin as she sensed his hunger surging through his fingertips. DJ’s breath left her in a shuddery pant, a sharp ache of longing sparking through her. 

His hands slipped gorgeously lower, DJ biting her lip as they ghosted towards the waistband of her trousers, and then behind, over her bum, kneading, teasing pulling her against the hard heat of him that pushed into her belly. A sudden flare of pain and she drew a intake of breath as a hand caught the edge of the bandage on her hip.

“Maker!” he cursed, the droid saying bringing a smile to her lips. It had been the closest she’d ever heard to a curse from Hux, but as she felt him carefully pull up her black vest her smile died as she let out a quiet moan of delight. Cool hands stroking gently down her side until they reached the bandage again. He crouched, bending his long legs, fingers pulling down the band of her black training pants to plant soft kisses around the small white square of the bandage, as her body responded, aching deliciously at his touch.

“It’s fine, come back here,” she groaned, grabbing his collar and pulling him up, until he was hard against her again, his mouth on hers, their hands entwined against the glass, leaving her defenseless against the onslaught of his lips and tongue.  He pulled away again from her lips, leaving her weak as his hands released her to gently unpin her hair, and then trail a line of wet kisses down her chin, jaw, and down to the side of her neck. She heard a growl reverberate through her nape, her hands sliding down to his belt, struggling with the unfamiliar contraption with a curse. Her concentration was in tatters as his hands in turn slid the vest straps of her thin top down,  his lips feathering kisses onto the tops of her breasts. Giving up on the belt, she curled a leg around him and grinding herself into him, desperate for the feel of him, even through the thick fabric of his uniform. Lifting her up, he spun and deposited her on his desk in one motion, papers and reports scattering as she landed with a laugh. 

Face flushed and eyes shining with desire she slowly began to pull her top above her head, Hux’s eyes following as the skin of her stomach and naked breasts came into view. Throwing the top aside it was her time to watch entranced as he unclipped his belt, unbuttoning and throwing off his uniform jacket with rapid speed, leaving only his white under shirt. Still too many clothes for her liking but he stepped forward to touch her before she could complain, his gaze solely on her, as his thumbs traced the sides of her breasts before moving to rub lightly over her nipples sending sharp spikes of need through her. DJ ran her fingers through his hair, as her legs wrapped around him, as his tongue sought her breasts, his teeth nipping at her until she sobbed with want. 

“Tell me you want me stay,” she whimpered as his lips again brushed each nipple in turn, his hands slipping down to begin to nudge the tight training trousers down from her hips. As she unwrapped her legs from around him, and lifted her hips off the desk to help. His hands dipped under the waistband, pushing them down her thighs, and they dropped to the floor. The First Order regulation black underwear wasn’t particularly seductive, but Hux seemed mesmerised as she pushed them down and off, feeling deliciously exposed to him as she wrapped herself back around him, the coarse fabric not hiding the hot heat radiating from him. 

And he still hadn’t answered her.

DJ started a trail of kisses of her own along his pale lean torso and neck, pulling his undershirt over his head.  There was a knife strapped to one forearm, the black leather and blade stark against his skin. His skin was like marble, smooth, wrapped around firm lean muscle, her breasts hot against his skin as her lips travelled up his chin and to his full lips. He slipped a hand between them, stroking up her leg, edging ever closer to her wet core.

All she could concentrate on was his fingers caressing her, higher and higher until she felt  his fingertips enter the springiness of her hair and stroked along the line of her slit. He paused, and then dipped into her warmth and wetness, a whimper marking the intrusion. Stopping at nub of her clit he leant in close to her ear, “tell me you are mine,” he said with a growl as  her hips bucked up to meet his hand. 

His fingers stopped their movements and she had to resist begging for him to continue to give her the release she craved. All she could think of was how much she needed him inside her, filling her, fucking her hard until she came.  The conscious part of her brain cursed that even now they were vying for control, neither wishing to admit they wanted the other, although their bodies made a mockery of the lie. 

“Tell me” he repeated, as she nuzzled her mouth and face into his pale shoulder in a desperate attempt to stop herself from screaming out incoherently that she would always be his, had always been his. He felt so good inside her, she’d promise him anything, everything, just as long as he promised to never stop. He couldn’t win. So she bit down, muffling her whimpers. He growled with the pain,  still relentless as his fingers pushed deep inside her, filling her as she clenched around them. She arched up to him, her hands wrapped in his hair, a deep sob of pleasure escaping her as she came, stars flooding her vision. But it wasn’t enough.

“Fuck me” the words were a muffled moan into his shoulder. And she would have begged, would have said anything to have him inside her,  but he complied, unzipping himself and sliding into the wet heat of her with a deep moan. She felt complete at last as he filled her, soothing the ache that had been building again in her seeking release. 

Wrapping her legs around him she pulled him even deeper into her, her nails digging into his back as she braced against him. Each thrust brought another whimper, driving them both on.

“Tell me that you are mine,” he repeated again, the words ragged now, his copper hair falling over his forehead as he dipped his head to her neck as his cock slide into her again and again. The first nip was light on her skin, breathing in the salty tang of her skin,  before biting hard enough to elicit a shaky gasp of pleasure from DJ as the pain drove her even close to the edge of the abyss. He’d marked her as she had marked him. They were even, a matched pair. 

“Armitage...” she sobbed as the ache inside her crested into a peak of almost agonising intensity and then freefall, Hux finding his release at the same time with a rough moan. His  carefully cultivated sense of self-control had crumbled into nothing, his face flushed as they came down together, panting and still wrapped into each other. A moment of calm after the storm, DJ  kissed his forehead gently, his eyes closed as his breathing eased. Tender now the sharp edge of their need had been finally soothed, for a moment at least. 

As their bodies cooled, an awkwardness descended, Hux suddenly aware he was standing with his trousers pooled at the top of his boots;  DJ naked, sitting on discarded First Order reports and paperwork. She shifted her weight a little and pulled a crumpled sheet out from under her bottom with an apologetic look. 

“I hope this one wasn’t important,”  DJ regarded him with a smirk as he reviewed the sheet, face serious before shaking his head. It was only then she took in the dark circles, the redness in his eyes. A new emotion swept through her, intense and unfamiliar. Worry and concern for him replacing her lust,  “you're exhausted. When did you sleep last?” she murmured, her hand stroking across his sharp cheekbone as something in his face suddenly hardened.

He pulled away from her and turned away, suddenly uncomfortable. Unsettled. 

“What’s wrong?” she said softly.

He ignored her as he struggled with pulling his trousers back up, angling his body away from her with belated modesty. DJ, still naked and on his desk, regarded him silently, eyes focused  on his pale buttocks until they were hidden once more in the ridiculous trousers he wore. Then he was strangely still, not looking towards her, staring out at the stars beyond.

“I’m not used to.... I…” his voice was distant, cracked. For a second she felt fear spike within her. Fear this had been a mistake for him, that he regretted it. Her.

And then she saw his arm, reaching back behind him, the hand outstretched seeking hers. She grasped it without a word, clasping his fingers tightly and dizzy with relief. 

No, this wasn’t regret, this was something even more unnerving and it reverberated through her too. A sudden realisation that they were no longer alone against the galaxy, but united. Tied now to someone who cared, who gave a damn. But it was still new, fresh and strange. It would take time for them to adapt to being something, someone, new. 

If they had time.

 


	16. Sour

Corellian Rum came in all sorts of degrees of quality. But after the third shot, they pretty much all tasted much the same. Sloane sipped slowly, the liquid’s burning heat already dampened down to a pleasant numbing of the brain.  It wasn’t as good as the stuff Armitage had, but it would do. It was the best they had in  Officer Level Bar A3, and the company, or lack if it, suited her better.

Admiral Rae Sloane was on her fifth, but drinking small languid sips, savouring the amber liquid. Pacing herself.  It took a lot to get her drunk these days, she'd had far too much practice. There was little else to do on that sandy shit of a backwater planet she’d found herself on until recently. Nothing but Nerf herders and sand. And she hated both in equal measure. 

Sloane usually prided herself on her erect posture, too many years standing on a bridge, the symbol of the Empire for which she had dedicated her life. But drinking in cantinas she was different. There was a special technique to it; Drinking to be left in peace. Leaning over the table, curling herself around her glass. Keeping herself to herself, only the occasional glance at the uniformed barman to indicate when she needed another hit. Not that anyone knew her it seemed. Her compatriots were either dead, long gone or captaining vessels of their own. 

Sloane had no interest in this  new breed of kids who called themselves officers of the First Order. Hux might pride himself on their training, but they were nothing compared to her old comrades of the Empire, born of war, sweat and tears. They wore the uniforms, but they were just children playing games. 

_ Like Hux _

A nerve to the side of her eye twitched, as the thought rolled through her, all the way down to her hand. It was almost an automatic reflex. Think, drink. She raised the glass and had another drink. 

Damn him. And her. 

A  call to Opan had confirmed her suspicions, DJ hadn’t arrived at the hangar to take up her offer. A wave of regret at her stupidity surged through her again, the whiskey not yet done its work in dulling her mind. If only she’d kept her mouth shut. She should have realized that Hux had had years of practice at hiding his true thoughts; He’d survived Snoke and Ren afterall. The bitch hadn’t realised how he had truly felt. So because of her DJ had walked into his room and…

The whiskey tasted bitter in her mouth.

No, this wasn’t all on her. Armitage had known his duty to the Order, to her. The promise he’d made as a child. To give everything to make his dreams of ruling the galaxy come true. Being more than the man who had given him life and then resented every moment of it since his birth.

She’d been the one to hold his hands as tears had smeared his childish face, staring up to the stars together. He’d sworn his vengeance, his loyalty to the Order and their dreams of unrivalled domination. 

_ His dreams. _

_ My dreams. _

Tossed aside for a bit of blonde ass. For the sake of sheer vanity, that someone actually wanted him. His vanity had made him easy to control, and manipulate. Snoke had pulled his strings like a master puppeteer. Snoke had gone, and Sloane was here, ready to stand by Hux’s side. Except he'd defied her. 

Oh, it wouldn't last, but that wasn't the point.

No one had ever warned her that the worse part of getting older wasn’t the aches and pains, it wasn’t watching your comrades failing and falling; It was learning that everyone betrayed you in the end. Adea, too naive to see when she was being used. Just like Hux. And for what? A fuck? A body to lie beside so you could pretend that in the end you didn’t just all die alone? 

It was pitiful.

But at least there was whiskey she thought with a humourless laugh. Taking another sip, measured to give her at least five more before she’d have to lock eyes with the barman again, she saw legs. By the table. Dark grey legs, black impeccable boots. Woman from the shape of the calves. Sloane dragged her gaze up, past the neatly pressed grey tunic and code cylinders denoting a Lieutenant. She stopped when her gaze met a  pair of dark eyes, bright with intelligence and a look Sloane had seen so often before. Desperate to please. Dark hair pinned back neatly, narrow face, pretty in a hard way. Almost interesting enough to unwrap herself from her drink. Almost.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I… I’m sorry but I just wanted to say how proud I am to have you on board. You are Admiral Sloane aren’t you?” the girl had the clipped tones of most of the Order officers, almost an exact mimic of Hux’s. 

His little clones.

“I used to be” said Sloane, the words more slurred than she had intended. Maybe she was drunker than she had realised. 

“I thought so, my father used to tell me stories about you, he was so proud of having served under you,” the girl gushed, with a bright gushing admiration that Sloane noted somehow didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Your father?” Sloane straightened a little more, trying to see if there was anything in the girl’s features she recognised. 

“Captain Seren, Ma’am.”

Sloane thought for a second. The name meant nothing. There had been too many names, and too long sitting in cantinas staring at sand.

“Ah, Seren, I remember, he is a good man. He must be proud of you being here on the  _ Finaliser. _ Lieutenant too I see?” Sloane smiled, nodding with fake recognition. She watched as flickers of emotion wash over Seren’s features. Sadness for a second, pride and a flash of something else. Something interesting.

“My father passed away some time ago. But yes, I have been proud to serve on this ship. I’ve just been promoted so that’s pleasing but… ” Seren’s voice faltered a little, just enough to intrigue; To encourage the Admiral to continue the conversation. It was skillfully done. The slight break in the voice, the down turn of the eyes as she spoke of her dead father suggesting an appropriate level of grief. But what she reeked of was ambition. 

Oh, she was clever, this one, and she wanted something. The question was exactly what.

“Dear child, why don’t you pull up a chair?”

  
  



	17. Turned inside out

Perched gracefully on the bedside table, Millicent watched the human sleep, unblinking green eyes only inches away from her prey. The cat’s lush ginger tail tapped out a soft beat against the cold black furniture as she waited. The human was on her side of Hux’s bed. She was not impressed.

Finally, a slight flickering of the eyelids. With an inelegant snort worthy of a human, the eyes opened blearily. Millicent was gratified as they widened in shock followed by a loud exclamation of a word she’d never heard Hux say. It sounded startled.

Good.

The new human had been an acceptable addition to her dominion, and she had enjoyed spending time in her quarters. But Hux and his bed were her territory. She didn’t like to share.  Glowering for a second longer, she was sure her point had been made. Millicent jumped down silently on the soft pads of her feet and stalked out of the room, tail flicking tall behind her. 

 

In that small space between consciousness and opening her eyes, she’d sensed she was being watched. Judged. The gentle stir of warm breath on her cheek didn’t prepare for the sight of shining green cat eyes glaring at her from just beyond the tip of her nose. 

“Kriffing fuck!” 

Millicent was jealous. She didn’t have to speak cat to work out what that little display meant as the door slid shut.

DJ  was alone, left in a tangle of dark sheets. His side of the bed was cold, he’d left hours ago. She breathed in the smell of him. Them. Gloriously stretched out, limbs sprawled across the bed, a warm flood of contentment spread through her veins. Giggles erupted and she muffled them with a pillow pressed against her face, breathing in the clean tang of his hair product. 

Oh, his poor hair, it would have take him an eternity to get it perfect again after what she’d done to it. Him. Another fit of giggles exploded out of her, images of her hands tangled in it as he’d grasped her hips, his tongue deep inside her.

_ Kriffing hell. _

She'd taken his hand last night and led him to his bed, Hux dimming the lights.  He'd needed sleep, and they'd slept. 

Eventually. 

Wrapped around each other, his angular frame intertwined with her softer curves, their previous urgency had been replaced by a slower pace. Revelling in each other’s bodies. 

Just the memory of his touch brought heat to her skin.

This wasn’t just need, this was addiction.

The feel of him inside her, his lips on hers. Oh, he was smug, though. His growl of victory as he drew pleasure from her body, DJ betrayed by her cries of rapture. 

“I knew you were mine” he’d whispered into her hair, both on the cusp of sleep. 

_ Oh. I’ll  have my revenge, make him beg for me. _

 

“Fruit and caf?” PD34 stood poised and ready to serve by the small side table in Hux’s main reception room. The droid’s black glossy  expressionless face as he poured the coffee managed to impart a look of disdain as he observed that she was wearing Hux’s dressing gown, wet hair from her shower unruly. He was a droid of the First Order and expected certain standards of behaviour. PD had a sudden suspicion he was going to constantly disappointed by the General’s companion. Although it wasn’t his place to judge of course. 

“I note you appear to have a contusion on your neck. Do you require medical attention? Perhaps a dressing.” 

Her hand grazed across the bite, still tender to the touch. Hux could cover his counterpart on his shoulder with his uniform. Next time she’d have to make it less easy to hide, the thought accompanied by a slight twist of her lips.

“No, I’m fine. But what is that?” she asked, gratefully accepting a cup of caff.

A black storage box lay on the sofa emblazoned with First Order insignia but with nothing else to give its contents away.

“It's for you. The General requested it be ordered and delivered. I have also retrieved your belongings from your quarters.” PD motioned to a meager pile on the sofa, her one set of remaining clothes half hidden under folded bulk of Finn’s battered jacket. That was it, 3 items of clothing, not including a clean pair of pants. Travelling light. One necklace and three hair clips somewhere on the floor of Hux’s bedroom, was all she owned in the world.

“I also retrieved a number of clothing items belonging to you that were on the floor by the window. And on the desk. They have been sent to the laundry.”  PD helpfully offered, waiting for an apology for untidiness that never came.

Box latches unclipped and lid up, a wide grin appeared as her hand traced over the smooth black leather of carefully folded trousers at the top of the case. There were a perfect replica of the ones she’d lost in Phasma’s attack. Underneath sat several more, and other items, arranged with Order attention to detail and neatness.

_ Clever boy. _

“The General had a number of garments ordered for you. Based on your previous choices and size.” Curiosity drove her to rifle through the layered clothes until she hit a layer of orange coloured shimmersilk, vivid against the monochrome of the room.

“How? How did he organise this? In hours?”

“We have a number of tailoring droids. Frankly they were delighted to be constructing something other than uniforms. They referenced the latest fashions from the Coruscant system apparently. Fire is the fashion apparently. The colour that is. Although with their history… Are the items to your taste?” PD 34 bustled around to glance in the case.

DJ held up the shimmersilk gown, the fabric flowing like water between her fingers. The colour glowed, catching the light like liquid fire. Nothing she’d owned had ever approached this for beauty. Or expense.

“For Coruscant?” 

“Yes. We are in orbit above the system now. I understand the General requested items appropriate if you were to visit the planet in his company. Although why anyone needs to wear anything beyond a good practical uniform is beyond me. That is one of the many benefits of being part of the First Order,” huffed the droid dismissively as he picked up her old clothes to sort away into Hux’s bedchamber. He paused, realising he had not completed all his tasks assigned by the General.

“The General would prefer if you were to reside in his quarters. Shall I confirm to him that you are agreeable?”

_ Agreeable? _

The last person she'd shared living quarters with was Terin when she was 18. A much older slicer who had offered to show her the galaxy and taken her virginity.

_ That had worked out so well. _

Now she was being asked by a droid if she wanted to cohabit with a General of the First Order. 

Life certainly did take some unexpected turns.

“Yes. Tell him….” she pulled her gaze regretfully from the dress, searching for a word that implied a similar level of emotional indifference,”tell him that his suggestion is acceptable.” PD 34 nodded and continued his errands, message relayed through his circuitry back to the datahub in the room.

“PD, what's Hux's schedule today?” 

PD34’s eyes flickered momentarily as he  interrogated and rechecked her access permissions. He couldn’t recall the General updating her security permissions to match his own, but he must have. There could be no other explanation of course. It must have slipped his memory. Only the General had full Alpha status. And DJ, also known as D’ara. It was confusing.

“Currently patrolling the bridge checking last minute instructions for the joint fleet meeting tomorrow, early morning Coruscant time. He has a meeting in the adjoining committee room in an hour. With Captain Opan and Admiral Sloane.”

 

The reflection in the mirror entranced her. Simple in design,  the halter neck clipped behind her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. The drama was all behind, cut low, barely covering her the curve of her bottom, leaving her back bare. Underwear would spoil the lines she decided, and the impact it had on her wearing it. She felt decadent, beautiful. And slightly cold.

“What do you think?” she twirled for PD, as the droid looked on with slight concern.

“Some of it appears to be missing. Shall I ask the tailoring division to redo the item with some additional material? No?” he queried after seeing her shake her head in laughter.

“No, I think it is supposed to be this way. In fact, I think I may be a convert to Coruscant fashion.”

“Very good. Ah, Captain Opan is at the door, shall I permit him entry?” PD  Nodding, she smoothed the fabric over the curves of her hips as she sat carefully in a chair. Walking around Hux’s chambers had shown the dress wasn't practical. One strong breeze and the might of the First Order wouldn’t be the only thing that the poor citizens of Coruscant would see. 

But, oh, it did feel delicious to wear something so extravagant for a change. As for Opan, she hadn’t seen him for days, although  he’d always been there in the background. Hux’s shadow. He’d hardly been her biggest fan on the _ Supremacy,  _  but Sloane could have only known the datacard as a fake because he’d verified it as such. And, she suspected, he’d had a hand in a few other things.

“Captain, how lovely. I've been meaning to say thank you.” Opan’s expression took a moment to settle into its customary blankness, taken aback  by her clothing and her disarmingly warm smile as she waved him to the sofa.

“For what?” he asked, his sleek black datapad clasped in his gloved hands. He had no sexual interest in her, she’d known that from the first time they’d met, suspecting his tastes were more complicated than just the lure of an attractive body. 

Between the offer of sex or knowledge, Opan’s preference was clear. A quick glance around the room, to the bedroom, a breakfast laid out for one. PD acting as her butler.

He was appraising the situation, exactly as he had done the first time they had met in Hux’s quarters, and drawing a conclusion. Sloane’s plan had failed spectacularly and Opan suspicions had just been confirmed. 

“Peedee. Power down. Sleep mode,” DJ’s voice was soft, expecting instant compliance, which she received. There was no longer any point in hiding that she had hacked the droid. A confession in return for a confession perhaps. Opan hadn’t come for refreshments, and he’d obviously known Hux wasn’t going to be in his chambers. 

“You told Kennedy I was in the medical bay after Phasma attacked me. Thank you. It made a difference to see a friendly face.” 

“You had had two social interactions with her during your time on the ship, it seemed possible you may welcome her company at a time of physical trauma. The General visited you as well, you know, although you were unconscious at the time. Although I suspect that news is of little consequence given more recent developments.” Opan was possibly incapable of smirking, but that comment would suffice for a knowing grin.

“He hadn’t said. Look, I apologise if you waited in the hangar for me yesterday. I decided not to take Sloane up on her offer.” 

“It appears you received a better one.” he conceded, a surprised chuckle bursting from DJ. 

“Something like that. So, do you still think of me as a threat?” she asked more seriously watching his face, hoping for frankness.

“You have never been a threat as such. I deal with threats directly and immediately. More an unknown complication.”

“And now?”

“A known, acceptable, complication. But one that can be managed. And perhaps even useful.” That was as close to honesty as she’d ever heard from Opan, as as close to a compliment as well. 

“As long as there are no further, unfortunate, allergic reactions?”  he caught the allusion and dipped his head in agreement. 

“Quite”

“So, Hux isn’t here. But you know that, because you have a meeting scheduled with him in 45 minutes. So why are you here?” 

For a man who never showed emotion, there was a flicker in the pupils, a puckering of the forehead. 

_ Definitely not a social call. _

“Has the General told you about the coronation?”

“Only that Ren wanted one here for a reason, known only to himself. I assume the fleet has been summoned for it, or at least some of it. But to be honest, I don’t know much. Hux and I haven’t quite got to the Order politics conversation stage of our relationship yet. Why?”

Opan eyes darted to the datapad on his lap, fingers tapping on its cover distractedly.

“You may be aware that the General has long harboured certain ...ambitions regarding the First Order,” he began slowly, not meeting her eyes, “ambitions that he believes may be supported by certain information you helped him retrieve.”

They may not have discussed strategy, but his ambitions had been clear since the  _ Supremacy.  _  The images she’d pulled from the holocameras. Hux choking, face anguished. Forced  to relinquish control of what she knew he, and Sloane, saw as his birthright. Hux hated Ren with a passion beyond comprehension, matched perhaps only by Kylo’s equal distain. Snoke’s dominance of the trinity had kept their mutual loathing in check. But he was gone.

Only Ren’s absence had prevented hostilities going further than Phasma’s ill fated attack against her, although how he would respond when he learnt the outcome chilled her. She hadn’t thought about it. 

No, correcting herself. She had chosen not to think about it. 

It had been naive and short sighted, and entirely unlike her. Instead, she was underdressed and underprepared for what Opan had come here to say.

“The General has developed a course of action which he intends to initiate at the fleet meeting tomorrow morning, local Coruscant time.”

Her skin goosebumped, a chill settling without warning. He hadn't told her. She hadn't known.

_ Kriffing fuck, I should have known. Guessed. _

A tremor of panic rose through her.

“To lead the First Order in an attack against Ren,” she murmured. It hadn’t been a question.

Opan’s pinched face nodded in confirmation, “he believes with proof that Ren murdered Snoke that the Order will stand behind him as leader.  He will lead the Order in an attack against Ren on Coruscant and then take the throne himself declaring himself Emperor. That is the plan that will be discussed  and finalised in a few minutes.”

“And you? What do you think?” 

His eyes flitted back and forward from the datapad clenched in his fists and the table between them, seemingly ignoring her question.

“It would be inappropriate for me to give you access to a highly classified security bureau report without prior authorisation from the General.” Without meeting her eyes he stood, and slowly placed the pad on the table. Cover open, screen lit with red type against a black screen clearing visible to DJ from where she sat.

“May I use the bathroom?” He asked, straightening his jacket before stepping away without waiting for an answer, eyes not glancing back.

As the door to the bathroom hissed shut she snatched it up, paced the room as she read. Silence cloaked the room, only the soft tap of her fingers as she scrolled down and down. And then a curse. 

 

Opan returned to find her at the windows, eyes unfocused on the planet below. Arms clasped around her, throat so tight she could barely get the words out.

“I don’t understand, has he seen this?  If Hux has seen this there is no way he could consider what you just outlined. Surely?” her eyes sought his, seeking an explanation that made sense.

“He and Sloane scanned it briefly.  He doesn’t believe it to be relevant. The General is...” he didn’t need to finish, he didn't need to. She could guess what Hux had said. But damn him!

_ Not relevant? _

A report was damning.

Complied by a Colonel Garmuth of the Order Security Bureau  it spent a lot of pages saying one very simple thing. The Order would not stand behind the General.

The majority of the fleet were still lead by ex Empire officers who thought Hux had only risen to his position through nepotism, with no real experience or attitude for leadership. Hologram General, someone had called him, all simulation, no substance. Never shown a spark of bravery or courage. Maker of machines at best.

But for all that, they knew the contempt was mutual. They feared Hux would cull their ranks to promote the junior officers he had trained and nurtured. They had suffered too much to make a grand gesture, to risk their lives for a man who had never fought for his own life on the battlefield. No, they would rather serve a mad man who was disinterested in Order politics so long as it did what it was told. 

An urge to scream almost overwhelmed her, as Opan just stood silently, studying her reactions. Like a droid waiting for its next order.

It was all too clear why he had come to her. Not out of concern for Hux, or a warning to her. Opan was Hux’s guard dog and he’d have a knife in his throat the moment they came for the General. Anyone who stood with Hux would die by his side. Including her. And the Admiral. 

“What does Sloane think?” 

“She appears to consider that the General would be successful if he launched a coup against Ren. That this is just the outpourings of a few disgruntled old timers.” DJ’s stomach jolted with a spark of hope.

“Hux's officers that he has trained? Those who have only known the Order?  Couldn’t they ...Could he.. ” she didn’t finish the sentence but he could guess the words. Lead a civil war against the old Imperials. 

“Due to their age, they are mostly in subordinate roles, simulation trained. None of them have true combat experience and they are more afraid of Ren than their superiors. And they have lost too many friends and family already with the loss of Starkiller base and the fleet. They are well trained, but they are scared. It would lead to a civil war neither side would win. It would destroy the Order.” he ended simply. 

_ It would destroy the Order Hux had given his life to build. _

“And there is something else that has just been reported by a contact from the Tatooine system. Ren has captured a Rebel leader. They will be brought back to Coruscant for public execution.”

A bitter laugh echoed across the room as she turned back to the window, eyes liquid with despair.

“So he will be coming back a hero. Does Hux know?”

“Not yet. I will give him the news at the meeting.”

The distant lights of the planet below them looked beautiful, catching the rays of the systems suns. One huge city wrapped around the sphere. A place of history, culture, opulence. The place where Hux would meet his death. And there she was, wearing a pretty dress for his annihilation. 

Why was Sloane blind to the risks? Was she so out of touch with the sentiments of her old comrades? So blinded with loyalty for Hux. 

DJ slipped down to the floor, back against the glass, eyes on the desk in front of her. 

Hux, chained and bleeding, dragged in his own stormtroopers. Left at the feet of a triumphant Ren. She’d seen what Ren did for the slightest insubordination. Ren’s fury at Hux’s betrayal would destroy them all. 

“And you think I can change his mind? Tell him to abandon his plan?” the words were only a whisper.

“I think you could be persuasive.”  

Looking up she could see a ghost of sympathy in his eyes. Opan was saving his own skin as well of course. He'd come to her as plan B, but he was a survivor.  He would have plans C to Z as alternatives. Coruscant was an easy place to get lost in if you didn’t want to be found, if you wanted to lie low until it all blew over. Anything was for sale for the right buyer, even refuge. 

There was no way out, her mind twisting in circles. Hux could not, would not, tolerate Ren’s leadership. He had to fight back, or run. And he would never run, not for her. Not even to save himself.

This was everything he'd worked for his entire life. And Opan wanted her to tell him to walk away from his destiny?

Her fingers pulled at the fabric of the dress, smoothing and twisting in a rhythmic pattern. Watching the fire burn between her fingers.

One pull, and it would rip. Just as telling Hux to give up would tear apart the fragile thing  they had built between them last night. Even if she could convince him to run, he’d despise her for making him a coward.

Oh, there was another way. She could leave and let him go down in flames. Tell herself it wasn't her battle or her fight.

But it had become her fight moment she'd let herself fall in love with him.

She couldn’t lose him.

A sudden urge to scream passed through her again, driven by waves of anger and dread that threatened to overwhelm her. He didn’t deserve this, she believed that to her core. Whatever he’d done, he didn’t deserve this. He wasn’t weak, he was the bravest man she’d met. To stand up to Ren even knowing what it could cost him, time and time again. She’d seen the bruises last night, dark and mottled against his pale skin. He was no coward.

There had to be another way. Think, she just had to think. This is what she did, found solutions for impossible problems. 

_ Adapt, move on. That was how you survived.  _

All she had to do was get Hux to trust her with his life and his destiny.

“Opan, I'm going to need you help.”


	18. My head is battling with my heart

“Excellent work officer,” the Lieutenant jumped, eyes wide, as Hux slapped him on the shoulder with a jovial chuckle. Captain Peavey winced in sympathy for the poor man. All the bridge staff were feeling disconcerted by the General’s unexplainable mood. 

“Captain Peavey, give my compliments to the entire bridge crew. Excellent work and coordination.” Hux beamed at the startled Captain, his face struggling to maintain its usual impassive expression. Hux, hands characteristically clasped behind him, continued his parade along the bridge windows. 

He appeared to be grinning.

Peavey turned to ever-so-slightly raise an eyebrow towards Captain Yago who responded with a minute shrug of the shoulders. Yago  had been supporting the  _ Finalizer  _ high command since the scuttling of his vessel the  _ Supremacy _ . He had not relished being stationed directly under the General, and he still felt the keen loss of his ship and a large number of his crew. But Peavey and Yago were old Imperials, and had felt loss before. 

 

Both had survived the destruction of the Empire, they were well versed in enduring hardship. And  hiding their true sentiments from their superiors. So, with ease, they hid their confusion during the long shift. Hux had never had displayed the sadistic traits of either Snoke nor Kylo Ren, but there had always been a sternness, a sneering superiority behind any politeness that was easy to mock. Hux’s behaviour, though, had gone beyond mere formal courtesy, to something approximating cheerful. 

The new Supreme Leader was absent of course, perhaps that explained it. Indeed the whole Order had breathed a small sigh of relief at the reprieve from his tempers and moods. The maintenance technicians, in particular, were enjoying a welcome lull in their workload.

The  _ Finalizer  _ had dropped out of hyperspace into orbit around Coruscant a few hours previously, waiting for the stragglers of the fleet to appear. The General had requested that some, but not all the fleet commanders attended the coronation. To remove all their navy Order occupied systems would have put them at unnecessary risk, regardless of the impressive spectacle Ren wanted. .

Peavey had his own thoughts on what might be driving Hux’s buoyant mood. The man often appeared mad, driven by a wild ambition and desire for power. Consumed with the need to make a grand gesture regardless of strategy or common sense. Bringing together the fleet would be the perfect time to do something rash and ill advised. Peavey watched with narrowed eyes as he watched Hux attempt to make small talk to another disconcerted technician. 

Why Sloane tolerated Hux had always confused the Captains. She'd always been a true devotee to the principles that the Empire had upheld, turned into a mockery by Hux and his ilk. 

Perhaps her affection for the boy had strengthened her tolerance to the man he had become.

Peavey permitted himself a small frown of annoyance. Opan would know what was going on, his boot was always firmly on the neck of everything and everyone on the ship. He had dirt on them all, including Peavey. No indiscretion remained secret for long in sniffing distance of Opan’s sharp nose.   Hux might be sometimes easy to mistake for a fool, but with as his tool, he was dangerous.

Peavey caught Yago’s gaze again,rolling his eyes, before returning to his thoughts. Hux was planning something, he knew the man well enough to know that. Fear prickled down his spine, leaving him cold. But there was excitement too. The day was coming when Hux would be undone by his ambition and pretensions to power. All they had to do was wait.

  
  


 

Hux smoothed the sleeves of his coat down, pleased as a minute wrinkle disappeared along the length of his arms. Smart. Perfect. As fitting a man of his position. He rolled his shoulders slightly as he waited for the lift to rise to his floor, the slight movement pulling at the bruise on his collar bone. Where she had bitten him, as he had marked her. The smile he had been unable to contain broke free again, his body responding to the memory of the hours before his shift. 

There had been women before. Mutually beneficial arrangements. Short term, impersonal.  

But D’ara. 

She had haunted his dreams for the last three years. And now she was his. The memory of her sweet cry as she came, hardened him almost painfully against the constraints of his trousers. So independent, so strong, but he had made her his.  

He had waited so long for this day to come, for his hard work and sacrifice to finally reap the rewards he so richly deserved. To met his destiny with such a woman as her in his bed? A warmth coursed through his veins. He was invincible. 

Sliding open the door to his chambers, his breath caught at the sight in front of him. He’d known Coruscant fashions had tended towards the minimalist, but he hadn’t realised the sheer wonderfulness of the style. He throat was dry, for once speechless. Eyes devouring the sight of her walking towards him, hair down, feet bare. Like a Queen, an Empress. 

His empress.  

Soft folds of  dark buttered gold fabric only accentuated the maddening curve of her breasts, 

skimming over her body to pool onto the floor. 

“Thank you, it’s lovely.” she stretched up placing a soft kiss on his cheek, the smooth silk brushing against him with a sigh.

“Of course. Excellent.” it was the only word his mind could conjure, his tongue involuntarily running along his bottom lip. The feel of her breath on his cheek bringing a flush of heat to his cheeks.

“Sir,” a familiar voice quietly made itself known from the windows. 

_ Kriffing fuck _

“Captain Opan was a little early for your meeting so shared a cup of caf with me,”  her hand slide down his arm with almost palatable regret that matched his own, “but, I wondered, if you are meeting with Opan and Sloane, whether I might be of any use?”  her eyes were wide and innocent. 

Hux was too well bred to look surprised at the suggestion, and indeed it did make some sense. He'd planned to announce his plans to her afterwards anyway, allow her an opportunity to appreciate the small role her work had played in his scheme, and admire the keenness of his strategy.

“Ah, yes, why not, an excellent plan,” he Inclined his head magnanimously, catching sight the small bruise on her neck, not quite hidden by the dress. 

Sloane would be livid, but if it hadn’t been for D’ara they would have lacked the main piece of evidence for their offensive. She deserved a place at the table, especially in that dress he thought his lips curling in appreciation at the view before him.. 

  
  


 

The meeting had gone well. Opan had not repeated his concerns, obviously falling into line with Hux’s own thinking. Everything was in place. D’ara had been surprisingly quiet, thoughtful. Deferring to his better judgement regarding Order strategy perhaps, or maybe a little tired. His grin returned as he poured himself a glass of his best Corellian whiskey. 

“Drink?” His eyebrow rose in surprise as she shook her head. “I can’t tempt you? It is early, but I thought it might be nice to celebrate the coming days?” his tone was jaunty, nerves giving way to anticipation.

Again, a shake of her head, her dark blonde hair shielding her face from his view. She was looking down at his desk, cleared and tidy as per usual, except for a printed report he didn’t remember leaving there. 

“I can’t decide if the right phrase is ‘end of the tyranny of sorcerers over the Order which we have build’ or ‘ our Order has become the puppet of sorcerers and their tyranny will end today’, which do you prefer?” he took a slow sip, savouring its quality as he waited for a reply.

“Hux, we need to talk about your plan.” D’ara’s gaze rose to meet his, eyes serious, her fingers rustling through the sheets.  “I think you need to reconsider your strategy. Don’t show your hand at the fleet meeting tomorrow, don’t suggest a full out attack on Ren prior to the Coronation.” her tone was even and quiet. The impact on Hux was like a blaster bolt.

“Excuse me?”  his clipped voice sounded confused, dazed, even to his own ears.

It didn’t make any sense, she’d sat there and listened, in silence, as he’d outlined the plans he’d spent days preparing. No, not days, years. This plan was the culmination of years of hopes, dreams and hard work. 

_ Reconsider my strategy? _

Hix chest constricted with a sudden fury.  He’d expected praise, her to fall into his arms and share the glory of this moment. Everything lay before him, his plans in place.  And this is what she had to say? His mouth set into a hard line as he turned away from her and set his glass down on the table behind. The liquid bitter in his mouth.

“I’ve read Opan’s report, you may not have the support you think you do with the fleet.” she continued.

He couldn’t  look at her, his body stiff with brittle rage. She was supposed to be on his side, and instead she’d been laughing behind his back. 

_ Of course _

They had been there together when he had arrived back. The papers on the desk. Opan’s report. She’d either hacked it, or his duplicitous right hand man had given it to her freely. Undermining him, going behind his back. For the last time. 

But he would deal with D’ara first.

“Careful D’ara, your place is in my bed, not presume to tell me what to do with military operations of which you have no understanding” his sneer behind his words was palpable, designed to cut.

“In your bed? Really? I thought my place was by your side since I'm the closest thing you have to a fighting chance to win this,” her tone was cold as she moved almost within touching distance, eyes fixed on his. 

“No matter, that can soon be rectified. You won’t have to worry about where I am, because you will be dead!” he could feel her breath as she spat out the words, flaring to sudden anger that drove her on. “Your so called plan has been developed based on bad intel, wild assumptions and your ego. Have you even read Opan’s report, or was the truth a little too painful?” her eyes blazed , hands on her hips as she leant into him.

“That's rich coming from someone with such an  interesting relationship with the truth,” a flush of bright anger etched on his pale features. 

“Truth? What like Keros’ unfortunate allergic reaction and the arrest warrant that never existed? That sort of truth?” 

The scent of her filled his nostrils. The same soap, the same shampoo that he used but somehow on her skin it was intoxicating, splintering his thoughts. He shook his head trying to regain his focus. Sloane was right, she was a distraction of the worse kind.

“Admiral Sloane says…” 

“Fuck Sloane.” she hissed, “she has been in the Outer Rim hiding from Snoke for the last few years and has no idea what is going on. Opan does. Your security bureau who helped compile the report does.  She’s blinded by the same thinking you are. You are seeing what you want to see. They will not stand with you, they are too scared of Ren. And now he has caught a Rebel leader....” 

Another blaster bolt through his stomach with the memory of Opan announcing the new intel in the meeting.

But, it didn’t matter. He had built the First Order. It was his, it had always been his, no matter what pretensions Ren wanted to cling onto.

“They are loyal to me! Such talk is treason!” 

But in the dark recesses of his mind he knew she spoke a truth from which there was no refuge, only firing his anger. “Who are you really working with? Eh? Opan? Kylo? The Resistance? Probably Poe Dameron’s whore!” his eyes gave her a once over, mouth a hard line of contempt.

“I don’t even know who that is! Listen to reason, Hux, for one kriffing time in your life. You need another plan... ” Her eyes latched onto his, pupils narrowed, anger there, but something else too now. Something he didn’t understand.

“You dare to say this! To question me?  I've killed men for less.” 

All he had wanted was for her to stand with him, and she had ripped it all apart. Consumed with a rage he could not contain, he drew his blade from his sleeve in a rapid move, holding it to her throat. The black leather of his glove and dark dull metal hard against the tan warmth of her skin. His breath came in ragged pants, eyes wide with what he’d done. 

“Do not push me. This is my chance, the chance I have waited my whole life for. Do you want me to give up? I let myself be murdered by that child? Is that why you are here? To watch me die?” he hissed.

She didn’t struggle. Didn’t flinch, only wrapped her left hand around his glove, holding the blade in against her. A perfect tiny orb of blood rose where the point nicked the delicate flesh of her neck. His stomach twisted in shock as his gaze finally met hers. Her eyes were wet, the fine pale line of her bottom lashes glistening with unshed tears. 

_ For him?  _

Or was it just an act. Had everything been an act? To turn him away from his destiny.

“I have another plan, one that will work. Let me help you. Please.” the softness in her voice tore him in two, head and heart ripped asunder.  And yet, he couldn’t stop from giving in to his deep urgent need to hurt and destroy all that lay in his path. 

“How could a whore help me?” 

“Don't” she whispered,   D’ara’s lips curled up with a hurt that washed over and into him, filling him with sudden shame. Her hand dropped from his, leaving the blade cold against her neck.

“If you think I would betray you, then do it. End it now. Or let me walk out the door. I will not stay here and watch you die. Not when I know a way for you to win. I just need you to trust me. ”

“Really? You want me to trust you? It's hard to trust someone when you don't know who they are.” 

“You know who I am. What I am.”

“Do I? Tell me one thing then, last night, why did you come to me? Why didn’t you take the money and go?  Like last time, when you walked away from me without a second glance. Why didn’t go leave if you hate me so much for deceiving you? Lying to you?”  he taunted her, pulling the knife away from her throat and throwing it aside in disgust. 

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I knew that the lies were to keep me here. I didn’t understand at first, but then I could feel …” 

Hux snorted in disgust. Of course. The same manipulation and mind games. Just like Ren and Snoke. Designed to control him.

“My thoughts? My feelings? You used your sorcery to know I wanted you and you decided, what, to feel sorry for me? Or that I looked like a better bet?”

“That’s not what happened. You know how I feel about you,”  she dragged a hand across her eyes, turning away from him, the lines of her naked back mocking him for the desire they still invoked. 

“I need to hear the words,” he swallowed thickly, the words coming unbidden, “I need you to tell me you are mine. Will always be mine. That you belong to me. That I can trust you. I want to trust you.” A flash of shame for his weakness flowered in his chest. But he had to hear them. Believe they were true.

“And if I did. Will you at least hear me out? Consider my plan? Come to your kriffing senses?” She turned back to him, a smile without humour curving her lips.

He wanted to trust her more than anything.  Needed to believe her, hold her in his arms and know he didn’t have to stand alone. Because he was afraid. Terrified, staring in an abyss that would engulf him. Brendol, Snoke, Rax, Ren, they had all judged him and found him wanting. The weight of their contempt to heavy to bear any longer. He would sink under it, driven to his end, misjudged and alone. Opan was right. He’d known he was right the moment he’d read the first few lines. All his achievements meant nothing. 

The Imperials would watch him fall and glory in his agonising defeat. He had no allies and garnered no respect. And he had no idea what to do but hope that this woman could save them both.  

All he could do was nod in reply.

“I am yours,” she whispered “I have always been yours. Since the moment we met.” she held head high as she spoke the words, gaze steady as she locked his gaze. A pause, a breath and then three more words, soft as a caress.

“I love you.” 

“Why?” it was more a cry than a question, damning himself for it as soon as it was said. Hux stepped back and away from her Hands clenched by his sides, nerves stripped bare by his vulnerability.

Why? Why would she love him, when no one else had? 

D’ara closed the space between them,  his coat lapels clenched in her tight grasp. The tears had gone, eyes brighter now, lit with insight and resolve. 

“I know who you are. And I want you. Whatever happened in the past between us,  I will stand with you, no matter what. No more running away.” she pulled his mouth down onto hers, the kiss first gentle and then needy, nipping his bottom lip with a moan.  He kissed her back, drowning in her, before he finally pulled back. One second more and he’d have been lost in her, but first there was something he had to know, although his whole body screamed in protest.

“This plan of yours. So superior to mine. What is it?” he panted. He felt the rumble of her laugh against him as she dropped her head to his shoulder, shaking her head with amusement at his priorities.

“Now? Really?” with a sigh she pulled away, slim businesslike hands straightening his gaberwool coat. Smoothing the lapels she’d crumpled with an apologetic smirk. 

“Fine. But you are going to have to make this up to me.” biting her lip as she thought of a way to begin.  “It’s a great plan. But there are some bits you might not like…” 

She had been nothing but thorough, methodologically ticking off the elements of her plan on her fingers, Hux restlessly paced the floor as she spoke. 

In the end, he only had one question.

“And what do I tell Sloane?” She would question why the plan had changed, why he was backing down from their carefully orchestrated scheme, ignoring her guidance.

“Tell her you think it’s better to do it off world, without the eyes of the galaxy and Coruscant on the Order. Tell her you want more time to place some key people in positions. Look, this is need to know, and she doesn’t need to. Ren could read her like an open book, so  don’t tell her anything. Until after. We’ll need Opan’s help though”

It made sense. Laid out like that, it wouldn’t be easy, but it made sense.

He dipped his head in assent, a blaze of anticipation uncoiling deep within. Outside the windows lay the dark infinity of deep space. 

“Come on, I want to show you something.”  
  


 

 

Peavey had to admit it made an impressive sight, the might of the First Order fleet on display through the  _ Finalizer’ _ s curved bridge windows. The  _ Fulminatrix  _ may have suffered an ignominious end, but the Mandator IV-class Siege Dreadnought’s two sister ships dominated the view, even surrounded by the dozens of small star destroyers. The stragglers of the fleet assembled for the coronation had arrived. And this wasn’t even the entirety of their forces, legions of ships still patrolled the galaxy.

Preoccupied  he failed to notice the dark figure at the centre of the scene until he was close behind. The General surveying his glorious achievements.  Peavey despised the man, but even he had to grudgingly admit Hux had been instrumental in building the formidable fighting force arrayed before them. It wouldn’t save him from Ren’s casual tyranny and a probable nasty end, but Hux had his strengths.

Something strange caught the Captain’s notice as he advanced. The shape of the coat was distorted, moving slightly although Hux was still.

Hux wasn’t alone. In the quiet, there was a murmured voice and a giggle. A woman. The General’s head dipping down as he replied, his deeper clipped voice muffled by the coat wrapped around them both like a cape.

Peavey almost froze, forcing his legs to continue onwards, behind and past Hux to his usual station.  A woman? Hux had a woman with him, on the bridge? Snuggled up with him, the image causing a sudden urge to laugh himself.

The sheer improbability of it made his head spin.  Firstly, that Hux had said anything to anyone that had caused them to giggle in response, and secondly that the exacting General was flouting at least three Order regulations with his actions. A woman? He hadn’t thought Hux even knew what to do with one, let alone converse with one under his coat.

Peacey caught sight of Captain Opan standing in his usual position, gaze firmly on the ed screens before him. His face was his usual blank mask, but Peavey would swear later that there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes than even the dim light couldn’t hide. Opan, the bugger, had known the whole time. 

_ Yago was never going to believe this.  _


	19. Interlude

She hadn’t known what to expect, pulling on her boots and taking his hand as they walked out of his quarters. Hux’s greatcoat hung off his shoulders like a cape, wrapped around them both.   DJ was tucked in against him, the fabric his uniform smooth against her back, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands holding the coat closed against the chill of the bridge. 

Hux had been right about the view. Standing hard up against the vast windows,  they almost floated free in space. Schools on schools of angular grey predators jostled for position, smaller vessels zipping like wayward offspring between them. The massed fleet almost hid the Coruscant system from view, shepherded by two enormous ships she’d never seen before.

“You made this?” 

A pause before she felt him nod.

“It’s…” she sought the right word. Impressive? Kriffing frightening?  Awe inspiring? “Beautiful.”

Other men would have told her she was more beautiful, the compliment given without thought. Hux wasn't that sort of man. He’d never been taught the rules,  how to charm and flatter. But his arms around her said enough. Enveloping her, holding her close, in front of his crew.

“What are they called?” 

“Ah, now this might be a good test of my skills.” Hux unwound an arm and pointed, DJ regretting the loss of warmth almost immediately. “So, for the closest ones, there I think is the  _ Victory, _ next the  _ Conqueror, _ the  _ Equalizer _ I believe, and the two massive vessels are the two Siege Dreadnoughts.They are the  _ Eliminator _ and the  _ Eviscerator _ .” He paused, at a sudden loss at the smaller ship  to the left of their viewing point.

“Captain Peavey, can you remind me the name of the name of the Imperial Class Destroyer, there, third from the top left?” Hux’s voice echoed across the bridge; The technicians and junior officers stationed under the level of their feet working almost soundlessly.

DJ peeked out at Peavey standing to the left of them, steadfastly looking forward.

He looked like such a small man. Middle aged, precise in dress and face schooled to hide emotion from the less skilled. DJ allowed her mind to free its bounds for a second. Ingrained contempt flowed out from him, tempered with a bright thread of amazement.

The Captain coughed, clearing his voice before responding, moving closer to the General. 

“That is the  _ Destructor _ I believe Sir”

“Ah, see the  _ Destructor _ ” he whispered into her hair, arm around her again.

“Seriously?  _ Destructor _ ?  _ Equalizer? Eviscerator? _ Who comes up with these names?” 

“I do, quite often,” his body stiffening at the slight as she chuckled, nestling her head under his chin.

“I fail to see what is so funny” 

“Never considered calling them something else? Like the  _  Beauty  _ or the  _ Kindness _ ??

“No”

Another laugh escaped her at his horrified reply, and then a memory of other stars.

“Kote, darasuum kote. Te racin ka'ra juaan kote.” The Mandalorian words harsh on her tongue.   
“Glory, eternal glory. The stars pale beside our might.” he translated needlessly, the words whispered into her hair, the beat of his heart a gentle rhythm against her shoulder.

It seemed so long ago.

Only three years. It was true that for most of the time she’d known him, she’d wanted to strangle him. He seemed to have that effect on people. And now, beyond all the realms of logic or sense, she’d declared her love for him. Broken all her rules. For a man she barely knew she was staring into the biggest shit storm she’d ever faced. The biggest job of her life, with the most risk and no pre-agreed payoff. The Master Codebreaker would be rolling his eyes in horror if he knew, perfectly coiffed head shaking in wonderment. Losing her edge. Losing her marbles. Possibly losing her life. 

_ I fear nothing, for all is as the Force wills it. _

That’s what her father always said, holding her hand as she’d stared out to the stars as a child. Never fear the future he’d said, staring into the darkness, face full of open wonder and glory of it all.  _ The Force holds our destiny in its hands. All will be well. _

But had the Force willed this? Was this her destiny? Or just Hux’s and she was along for the ride?

_ I love you _

Love. A foreign word, letting the feel of it tease over her tongue. Love. The word had come from a deep place within her. It was what he had needed to hear and perhaps what she had finally had the strength to put a name to. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the quiet sound of his breathing all around her, enveloping her.  She understood now. He’d brought her here to show her what was at stake. What he had built and was now trusting her with. Everything that depended on her cunning and his resolve. Words could be empty things, but with those three she would stand with him or fall by his side.

The silk of her dress slid through his grip as she spun, her arms draping over his shoulders. fingers entwined behind his head.

“You made all this, and soon it will be all yours. You will be Emperor,” she whispered into his neck, her face upturned as she inhaled the smell of him. The coat hid them well. All the bridge would see was perhaps the tips of her fingers peeking above his collar. 

Under her hands a fluttering of apprehension passed through him. The bristle of sideburns framed the hollow of his cheek, a slight tremor betraying his nerves. This was the calm before their storm. 

“I will burn worlds for you. All will follow you The galaxy beg for your mercy. You will bring order to them all.”

Her hand ran down the smooth fabric of his tunic, dipping down his chest and then lower, feeling the hardness behind the zipper on his trousers. Hux’s control was breaking down, his breath catching as she palmed him through the fabric, fingers running down the hard ridge of him.

“I will kneel before my Emperor and show my loyalty, “ her lips brushed against the pale skin of his neck. Her eyes finally catching his, darker now with a dangerous glint.

Stretching up almost to kiss her teeth nipped his lower lip. Her pulse racing as his hands dug into the curve of her backside.

“I could demonstrate if you want. Here, now,” a sort of madness overwhelmed her, driven by urgent need to hear him moan her name as her lips wrapped around him. Driven by a need to feel more than a dark fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

She ground herself  against the stiff ridge of his cock. His copper lashes closed as his muffled moan sending a frisson of pleasure through her.

“My quarters. Now,” he pulled himself away,“Start walking now before I have to court martial myself for conduct unseemingly of an officer” he hissed, detaching her arms from around his neck, her quiet laughter still echoing across the bridge and down into the crew pits.

“Wear this. I wish to keep my staff’s focus on their work” he slipped the coat off his shoulders and onto hers, the hem dragging on the floor as he turned to leave. She'd worn it on the way up to, the dress incongruous and indecent against the dark sterile uniforms that surrounded them.

Lieutenant Mitaka appeared at Hux’s side. Shifting uneasily, his eyes fixed firmly on the datapad clutched in his hands, ignoring her presence with rigid determination.

“Sir, the final itinerary for tomorrow as requested. Confirmed fleet meeting at 0600 Coruscant time. Followed by official welcome at the Municipal buildings at 1100.” 

Hux nodded curtly as the officer retreated, DJ knowing his attention was firmly focused on the languid swing of her hips, full of invitation, as she walked towards the turbolifts.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now onto Coruscant and the conclusion...


	20. Its all because of you

Coruscant had always been a place of extremes. A city that covered an entire planet, buildings towering up through the troposphere. Citizens rich beyond all comprehension who lived beyond the clouds, and  dirt poor who fought for survival near ground level: Spending their short fearful lives choking on poisonous fumes and the rubbish of those above.

Everything was built on massive scale. Rebuilding had taken place over the last thirty years, trying to wipe out the stain of occupation and the legacy of the Empire who had chosen Coruscant to be its capital, as had the Republic before it.

The planet had lost that honour long ago, fading into a provincial backwater as the headquarters of the destroyed New Republic had moved through other worlds by election. It had been that honour had led to the destruction of the Hosnian system, and the death of the Coruscant Senator who had been in attendance.

All that was left was the buildings,  grand and overwhelming monuments to a time when the planet had truly mattered.  The enormous circular structure that had housed the Galactic Senate of the Republic dominated the vista as the First Order landed hundreds upon hundreds of transports in front of it. They massed in precise and orderly legions along a grand arcade, their numbers too great to be contained by even a building as large as the Senate House. Flanked by rows of TIE fighters, they stood silent, waiting for the formal welcome by the citizens of the planet. Faceless ranks upon ranks of white armoured legions and tight squares of smartly uniformed officers. Each a faceless cog in the gigantic war machine that had crushed almost all resistance across the galaxy.

Pausing as she disembarked from the shuttle DJ took a breath of cool air. Not exactly the cleanest air, even at this height about the surface, but a pleasant change from reprocessed air of the star destroyer. A light breeze drifted across the massive space, First Order banners fluttering in the distance. The troopers and firepower weren’t just decorative she noted as she walked. Two AT-ATs stood ready at the rear of the troops, and DJ could spot snipers on the upper levels of the Senate Building beyond.

The whole spectacle sent a clear message. No resistance would be permitted from the local population, no signs of discontent of the arrival of their new overlords. Gigantic statutes of Coruscant’s glorious ancestors stood in their midst, mocking  descendents who had submitted to the yoke of the Order. The symbolism was clear, Coruscant would have no need for a Senate building, or Senator, any longer. Those days had gone. The First Order would rule, democracy was dead.

High ranking officers stood at exact attention at the head; General Hux’s personal staff forming a small group to the side of a small raised podium. A silent mass of Coruscant citizens and elite watched uneasily, their bright clothes and jewels garish against their tightly drawn features, pale with unease. Hundreds of eyes flitted across the spectacle arrayed before them, but always drawn to the black hooded figure that stood in the midst of the the General’s personal retinue.

 

The hooded cape had been her idea, with Hux’s reluctant approval. Afterall, she’d argued, it wasn’t like the galaxy would be surprised by a mysterious faceless figure within the ranks of the Order. Hux had agreed, eventually. Her presence would be useful, he’d conceded, with her Force abilities to sense emotions. And she had reasons for not showing her face.

The heavy swish of the fabric surrounding her as she walked through the assembled ranks behind Hux made her feel mysterious and enigmatic. DJ stood silent with his staff, all of whom were too well trained to even glance in her direction, staring straight ahead in perfect stillness.

The formalities began, Hux in stark black, small cap on his head, the figurehead of the First Order who had brought the system to heel.

“General, may I present Grand Vizier Ek'qui'zan Zarander, of the Council of Coruscant?” from her viewpoint she watched Hux inclined his head slightly, his face framed  into a mask of vague disinterest and contempt. These political niceties held little interest for Hux. They were a conquered people, he’d scoffed as they had landed, holding a Coronation here was Ren’s vanity and foolishness. He had little interest for the petty politics and posturing of a system who history had left behind.

DJ, for her part, was pleased to be off the _Finalizer_ , and feeling the solidity of a planet under her feet for a change. Although, she hadn’t mentioned that to Hux, with his distrust of anything he hadn’t build from metal.

The Grand Vizier was human. Short, rotund and proud. Dressed in the rich fabrics of Coruscant, decorative chains and medals indicating his status, tawdry in comparison to Hux’s sober black. The woman standing at his side was pure Twi’lek, skin a glorious pale teal blue, her lekku long and thick, only adding to her beauty.  Twi’lek were much prized for their charm and looks, but Hux looked past her, somewhat, DJ sensed to her relief. She brushed her mind over the group, finding barely controlled panic, anger, and pride despite everything.

“And this must be C’leah. Tales of your beauty and wisdom precede you.” Hux’s smile seemed genuine in its warmth and gentleness as he addressed a small girl hiding behind her mother's skirts. He crouched down, his long legs folding under his long coat as the child peeked back at him. .

Perhaps six or seven, with her mother's overall colouring but with a mottling pattern interwoven the blue with the paler skin of her father. Small but brave. There was nervousness there too, but also curiosity. The First Order were new, foreign. DJ sensed the girl was too young to understand the threat they represented.

“I understand that you have a particular love of sweets. Now, see that lady behind me.”  Hux turned and pointed at Admiral Sloane, who returned a tight smile, “now you wouldn't guess it, but she loves sweets and she tells me these are the finest in the galaxy.” He slipped a gloved hand into the pocket of his great coat and produced a small colourful box. The girl took it hesitantly, not seeing the bright flash of fear across her mother’s face.

“Thank you sir,” the girls voice quiet and soft, as the Twi’lek placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, as if Hux was about to rip her child from her side.

“My Daddy says you are here to punish us so I must be polite and nice and we must not make you angry,” C’leah clutched the pretty box to her chest, unaware of the pale look of horror on the Grand Vizier’s face at her words.

A chuckle escaped Hux, although from her standpoint DJ could tell there was no humour in his eyes. Standing up, his slender height dominated the Prime Minister who could no longer find the strength to meet those of the General.

“No child, the First Order is like a good parent, it does not punish an errant child. It seeks to educate, to direct. It will be tolerant if it trusts that the error will not be repeated. If the error is repeated... well, let us hope Coruscant is wise enough not require correction,” Hux’s smile fading into his familiar sneer as he addressed his reply to her father. Zarander pulled his gaze up to meet the General’s, message clearly understood.

The tedium of more introductions followed, Hux struggling to keep the scorn out of his voice, straining his best attempts at holding his temper. And everywhere around her, DJ felt the same wave of emotions; Distrust, fear, hate and the resignation of the defeated.

“Well, that was boring,”  DJ pulled back the hood, throwing a smile at the familiar officer who had stood by her throughout the proceedings.

She’d expected a look of surprise and a smile from Mitaka, not the cold look of hate as he turned and saw her face.

“You. Leave me alone,” he hissed, eyes quickly flicking around them to see who was watching.

“You nearly cost me everything with your games. Stay away from me.” His features twisted into a mask of loathing, DJ recoiling from him in shock.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to play games,” she found herself apologising, confusion surging through her. He’d been so friendly when they had last seen each other. Very friendly. Easy humour and obvious interest, his arms around her as they had danced. That is what she remembered of him. Not this.

“If I had know that you belonged to him, I would never have even looked at you, let alone…” Mitaka’s  words hung in the air as he balled his fists, trying to control anger he could not permit himself to fully express. Without even trying she could feel so much from him. Felt his fury coming off in waves, twisted through with a sense of powerlessness that ripped his heart apart. He was afraid, not just of Hux, but the Rebels, and in a flash as sharp as a hologram, being choked by Ren.

“I don't belong to anyone,” she replied, reeling from the onslaught from his mind.

Mitaka’s raised an eyebrow, scorn tempered with something that felt like pity.

“Are you that naive?” she winced at the question she had no intention of answering. Instead, she had one of her own.

“What do you mean I almost cost you everything?”

Mitaka replied, eyes cold.  DJ pulled her mind away from him, closing herself down from the Force.

“After that night. When he saw me outside his quarters. The General told me that if I went anywhere near you again, he’d strip me of my commission. I was top in the my class at the Academy, my career is everything to me,” he swept a hand across his face, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. “Kriff, he said I’d get reassigned to sanitation. I’d spend my years cleaning out the trash compactor. Look, Kennedy trusts you, she likes you, but I won’t let Hux’s …” Mitaka caught her eye again and stopped himself, DJ’s cheeks flushing with his inference, but she didn’t look away. She owed him that.

“Look, Hux doesn’t tolerate anyone crossing him,  anyone standing in his way. How do you think he got  where he is? You have no idea how dangerous Hux can be. He lives on fear. One wrong look, one wrong move and my career is over. Please. _Please_. Just stay away from me, and Kennedy. We both worked hard to get where we are. Don’t take that from us.”

She could only nod, swallowing the lump in her throat as she watched him spin away from her, soon lost in the orderly exodus of officers returning to massed shuttles to the rear.

Confusion slipped into anger, his words repeated again and again in her mind. He’d been angry, but he’d been wrong. She hadn’t been playing games with him. He’d bought her a drink, they had danced, she had never meant to lead him on or use him to make Hux jealous. She hadn’t even wanted Hux to be jealous. Angry, maybe, remembering how she’d slapped him that night. But not jealous.

A knot pulled tight in her stomach as the lie outed itself, shame flaming through her. He was sweet, but she’d never wanted to fuck him, so why take him up to her quarters?  

_I’d wanted to get back at Hux for lying to me, ignoring me, not wanting me._

The knot pulled to strangling point, a sudden nausea overwhelming her. She had used him.

Perhaps not consciously, certainly not premeditated, but she had used him. She’d left Mitaka in her wake, paying the price for her bruised ego. She hadn’t thought of him then, or since, until now. He’d never mattered, not like Hux.

She caught sight of him, his black coat incongruous against the colour surrounding him. The General was still on the podium, in conversation with the Grand Vizier. Hux’s hands clasped behind him in his usual manner as he spoke, the shorter man nodding intently, looking desperate to please. Zarander’s family had disappeared out of sight, driven off by Hux’s veiled threats, still fresh in her memory. Mitaka had been right about another thing, Hux revelled in people’s fear of him, the power it gave him. Knowing the reasons behind it, though, didn’t make it any less troubling to witness.

Pushing back the hood a little further she took in a deep breath of cool air, calming a sudden surge of nerves. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but she had to trust her own instincts, her own heart. And his.

She shivered, telling herself it was the breeze.

“Oh, so it is you under there. I did wonder. Always popping up where you least expect,” Sloane’s tone was cold as she appeared  from nowhere to stand at her side, her striking stripe of white hair even more prominent against the grey in the dull sunlight.

“Admiral” DJ’s tone was civil but she was ignored, the Admiral’s attention immediately focused on Hux as he approached, her mouth turned  up into a warm smile for his benefit only. DJ’s hood didn’t hide the narrow look she threw at Sloane, brushing her mind gently. Irritation - directed most likely at her. A sliver of excitement, and old feelings about Coruscant that she didn’t seek to touch or delve into. DJ came back to herself. She’d felt enough today.

 

Hux had returned from the fleet commander’s meeting early that morning quiet, but with his usual confidence intact, barking final orders at Opan as he made final preparations for Coruscant. “Sloane?” DJ had asked watching his bustling activity as she’d lounged on the sofa.

“No issues. She caught me after the meeting and I explained that I had decided that Coruscant was not the right time or place for such a strategy. She agreed. She trusts my judgement.” Hux had shot her a quick look that hinted at reproach that she hadn’t, but had said nothing further. Sloane find out when it was done, that was the plan. She was too easy to read, by her. By Ren.  It was safer that way for them all.

“Armitage, I want to thank you. As you know my aide had become unwell, so thank you for permitting me to borrow one of your staff until she is recovered.” Sloane patted his hand warmly, as Hux looked momentarily confused,  “Lieutenant Seren is a perfect replacement. Excellent training, good family. I understand she has worked with you before?” Sloane directed their attention to the woman standing behind her, Lieutenant’s uniform and cap crisp and immaculate. The perfect little officer. Seren’s smile faltered slightly as she caught DJ’s glare of recognition and dislike.

DJ had scared her that night at the bar, but that looked long forgotten. Seren looked pleased with herself, narrow vulpine face positively glowing. Revelling in being brought to position of preeminence and notice once again, DJ sneered. Seren with eyes only for Hux, wide and adoring.  DJ dropped her gaze to straighten out the folds of her cape. If she’d been in a cantina she’d have gone up to him and kissed him fiercely, staking her claim. But this wasn’t the time or the place for that, so she constrainted herself to an dramatic eye roll.

Seren was becoming the proverbial  whiff of bantha shit that seemed to follow her about; You could wipe it off your boots, but somehow it always returned. And now she was working for Sloane. Of all the people on the _Finalizer_ to select as a replacement aide, Sloane had chosen Seren. Neither of them liked her. Perhaps it was coincidence.

DJ didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Excellent. I hope she is of use.”

Seren’s smile waned  as Hux’s face registered recognition and then cold indifference.

So, that’s how cold he could be to someone he’d slept with 7 times. DJ recalled the access files PD 34 had provided to her. 7 times over two months, and he’d barely registered her existence. Their gaze met, DJ studying Hux’s precise movements as he straightened his gloves, irritation etched into the curve of his full mouth.

“D’ara. I humoured you in allowing you to attend these formalities. All I asked was for you to stay silent and unobtrusive. Something which you appear unable to do. I  have duties that require my attention on Coruscant, you will return to the _Finalizer._ Understood?” It was a dismissal. A cold simple dismissal. His back turned to her as he spoke to Sloane, leaving DJ standing there abandoned.

Pulling the hood back up, she hid her face, giving a stiff nod of acquiesce that hinted at hurt and confusion before walking towards the shuttles. Two sets of female eyes watching her go.


	21. This way

_ This hadn’t been part of the plan, _ thought DJ, watching the cityscape of Coruscant grow closer as they descended. Hux was scheduled to attend a formal dinner this evening, without her. His exasperated sigh as he’d viewed his diary had shown his joy at spending the evening with the Council of Coruscant as they groveled for a chance to prove their loyalty. All in return for concessions and trade deals he’d have to oversee. 

All of which didn’t explain why PD 34 had requested that she should dress for dinner and board his private shuttle, bound for the planet.

The shuttle slipped into the hectic skyways above the city, landing at 500 Republica, the planet’s most exclusive residential building. If you were a somebody, and rich, this was your address.  5,200 levels away from the planet’s surface; Almost brushing against the stars.  _ Very very rich _ , she corrected herself, following a droid through the grand entrance of a penthouse apartment; Decorated to a level of opulence that left Canto Bight looking impoverished.  DJ had been to similar residences before, her particular skill sets attracting clients from the very top of society. That didn’t stop her intake of breath as she entered a wild jungle, protected from the sky by an enormous glass biodome. 

Her footsteps crunched on real soil imported from some far away planet, exotic plant species arching overhead. Precious specimens curated and cultured for the enjoyment of the ultra rich. The air was sweet and clear, lightly fragranced by scent of flowers. Flaming torches and the light of the stars above illuminated  a paved clearing guarded by delicately carved stone statues. In the centre a long table set for two, and at the farthest end sat Hux, upright and awkward. 

“This is unexpected.” Her smile of joy dimming as Hux barely looked up from his wine glass as she approached. 

“I am the  _ second _ most powerful man in the galaxy. I do not need to spend my time listening to the pathetic whinings of a defeated people hoping for clemency.” Hux replied, voice laced with scorn,  “and the Grand Vizier was kind enough to allow me to borrow his residence for the evening. Or perhaps more permanently, I have yet to decide.” His black uniform and pale face looked stark against the green foliage and pale stone that surrounded them. He looked out of place, a vision in monochrome in a technocolour world.

A servant droid pulled her chair out for her as she sat, her eyes wary as he refilled his glass from a carafe of dark liquid.

If she’d been sitting in a outer rim cantina, surrounded by the Guavians, she’d have felt the same tingling down her spine. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something that could explode at anytime. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she accepted a drink from a droid and swallowed deeply. Hux had wanted her here, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent for her. But everything else felt wrong. She could get up and walk away, or stay and wait for the fire fight to begin.  _ At least the wine was good _ , she thought, taking another deep swill.

“So, if you are here, who is at dinner with the Council of Coruscant?”

“Sloane. She will enjoy it. Her last time here was… less than pleasant. There are certain scores I am sure she will wish to settle.”

“And Lieutenant Seren? Will she be there too?” The question left her lips without conscious thought as a plate of food was placed on the table in front of her.

“Seren?”

“Her new aide. The one from the good family,” DJ took a small bite of food, savouring the taste, “You know, the one you fucked.” DJ observed his reaction, telling herself that it wasn’t the comment of a jealous woman. Merely a curious one, pondering why Sloane would have selected her, out of everyone on board. 

“She did look familiar,” he drank deeply before catching her gaze and holding it, “is that jealousy D’ara?” he arched an eyebrow, “I would comment on you being remarkably well informed but I’m growing strangely used to you knowing everything.” 

DJ felt uneasy at the backhanded compliment, there was a coldness in his voice that matched how they had spoken at the grand welcome in the morning. But that had been staged. This felt all too real. This conversation was starting to remind her of defusing a detonite bomb. There was no point stopping halfway through, it would blow up either way.

“How did you meet?”

“Something that you don’t already know? Will wonders never cease? Through Opan of course” he replied offhandedly, as DJ choked on her wine.

“Opan?!”

“For a person in my position it would be unseemly for an lower ranking officer to ask me directly, but on occasion, a subordinate may indicate a willingness to engage in a interaction of an intimate nature.”

“And you may, on occasion, ask Opan to suggest an  intimate interaction to a particular female who you like the look of?” DJ mimicked Hux’s precise language. 

“On occasion.”

“Physical interaction?” she asked, placing her glass back on table to protect against any possible threat of choking from his answer.

“It’s understood within the Order that certain needs will develop and have to be meet within the confines of a vessel. These arrangements are common and tolerated, as long as they do not interfere with working relationships.”

“And love?” DJ couldn’t forget Kennedy’s wistful sighs over a female officer as they had sat in the officer’s mess. Whatever Hux thought, not all interactions were of the physical, non-emotional kind. Although, seeing him tonight, maybe she was no fit judge of what Hux thought. 

“Rare, but not unheard of. It has never been an issue I have had to concern myself with. The officer class, I find, has a less emotional mind set in regards to these matters.” He sounded so convinced by his own words, but he didn’t understand women at all. Women like Seren; women like her. 

And yet he had shown almost no recognition or interest in the Lieutenant when they had met again today, DJ playing Seren’s face as she’d realised he hadn’t even bothered to remember her.  _ Maybe it was just Hux who could be so completely emotionless?  _ Despite ten years of trying, DJ had never got the hang of not giving a damn. 

“It seems a strange way to do it,” picking through her dinner, but losing her appetite. 

“As opposed to picking up men in cantinas? Do we really have to talk about this now?” 

“Fine,” a fake smile glued on her face, “But, back to you and Opan. Does he get some sort of finders fee? Am I doing him out of a commission?” Hux looked confused, before his eyes settled into a narrow glare. She suspected he hadn't been teased before and she was losing patience for his mood. 

“Your last three ‘interactions’ were with dark haired, small women. Like Seren. I’m not your type.” PD 34 had pulled up the hologram images of them from the access logs on her request. To say DJ didn’t fit that mold was an understatement; Blonde, tall, messy hair and an inability to follow orders. 

“I didn't want anyone that reminded me of you.” The words were so quiet she almost missed them. He didn’t even look at her, his gaze on his plate, pushing food around half heartedly. 

His honesty, so incongruous with his mood, threw her completely. She couldn’t think of a retort to that, no cheeky reply. Busied herself with her cutlery, stabbing a morsel with vigour. Whatever was irritating Hux, the chef was not to blame. The food was divine; Exquisite flavours, perfect execution. Better than Canto Bight’s overdone slabs of exotic beasts. And yet, she had no stomach for it. There was still the feeling of imminent danger, like she was flying through an asteroid belt, just waiting for one to hit. A change of subject seemed wise.

“What history does Sloane have here?”

“Coruscant was handed over the New Republic, Sloane always mourned its loss, she’d always had a special relationship with the system. Hated Rax for not supporting her defence of it”

“And now it is back in the fold, losing its Senator and its freedom…” she mused, remembering the anger she’d felt surging over her at the Senate house. Hate and fear. A whole world terrifited at what retribution the First Order would demand. 

Hux laughed without humour, the sound bringing a chill. 

“Freedom is an illusion. A right that brings suffering to those under its tyranny. Take FN 218. What does he call himself now you said, Finn? Do you know how he came to the Order?” Hux leant forward in his chair, arms resting on the table, animated at last. “He wasn't stolen. We visited his system and his parents and thousands like them begged us to take their children so they wouldn't die from starvation and disease. That is the lie the New Republic peddled, that freedom was a joy. It was a torture.” He pushed himself back, eyes shining with conviction. 

“It’s not a torture to all. I’ve been free all my life.”

“True, but not everyone has your talent for survival.”  It could almost have been a compliment, but when DJ held his gaze, it was clear it wasn’t. The feeling that something was troubling Hux had gone from a niggle to a stabbing pain.  Almost instinctively DJ tested weight and balance of the cutlery knife in her hand. There wasn't a big distance between them, one good throw and she'd embed it in his chest. The idea was growing increasingly tempting, she thought with a scowl. 

 

With no warning a fine curtain of water fell from the dome, circled around the paved clearing, past the statute sentinels. Light mist at first and then heavier until they could see nothing through it, the only sound the patter of  raindrops on leaves. DJ felt a small pang of sympathy for the troopers stationed amongst the trees, still and silent. Obedient. 

“And now it’s raining! How can anyone with a weather controlled biodome consider it a useful idea to permit it to rain during the evening?” Hux threw down his fork in disgust.

“It’s not raining on us Hux,” DJ said, watching the way the rain drops caught the light of the torches as it fell, “and anyway, I love the rain.” 

“My memories of it are less fond, I remember it raining constantly on Arkanis. And cold, always cold.” he looked sourly at the torrent of water surrounding them. 

“On Jedha, rain was blessing, they used to say.”  She swallowed down a sudden awkwardness. They had shared so little about each other, it seemed almost too late to start now. He'd never asked, and there had never been time. She tossed her hair back from her face as she straightened, staring down the long table. One thing, she would share one thing about her past that he couldn’t have read in her file. 

_ Whether he liked it or not. _

“My father told me about the Renewal festival each year. The whole moon would celebrate its coming. It's how my parents met apparently, not in a cantina,” she clarified, “he was a Guardian of the Whills, tasked with doing the ritual festival stuff I suppose. Anyway, my mother was a pilgrim, to the Jedi temple. She was dancing in the rain, soaked to the skin, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Well, that’s what he used to say.”  She gave a soft laugh, looking up to see Hux watching her intently, expression unreadable. 

She hadn’t thought about the story  in years, putting it away with everything else from her past. But it was still there, the memory of her father with a cheeky glint in his eye as he told the tale,  her mother rolling hers in return as she overheard from some corner of their hut. Their shared smile that told of a joyful life shared.

“He said she was so beautiful that day in the rain. So free, so happy, that he turned away from the Guardians to be with her. From everything he thought he was.” As the words came out, the irony hit her like a blaster bolt. She was following the same footsteps, and stumbling. All because of the man in front of her. 

“I’m not going to dance in the rain for you, I’m afraid,” he replied softly,  a flash of a smile on his face, and then gone. But she felt a spark of hope.

“Tell me something about you, about your childhood.” But whatever had lifted slightly returned, twice fold. There was a tension in his face and body that hadn’t been there before moments ago. Her question had awakened something inside him, and she cursed her stupidity. Wished she could have taken back the words, kept hold the moment of calm and peace between them.

He didn’t look at her as he started to speak. “My mother’s name was Shaa’silin. I didn’t know that until I was older, my father told me during a drunken rage, telling me she was a kitchen slave, a whore…” His voice faltered, leaving the drumming of the rain.

“I have a memory.  I was maybe four. Arms holding me close, and  a woman crying and screaming as I was pulled away by Brendol. I don’t know why he took me with him. Every day he punished me for not being enough like him, for being weak, for being... ” he finally pulled his eyes up, challenging her. “My father was a cruel, vicious thug who poisoned everything and everyone he ever touched. I hated him every day he lived. I still hate him now. Phasma told the truth, she killed him on my orders. Does that shock you?” The words were precise and deliberate, as if he’d practiced them in his head before he’d spoken. Hux wasn’t looking for pity, he’d never been that type. But he needed something from her. This was a test, not a conversation. The hurt, the need for love, the longing for comfort - the pain she’d felt the night when she had first gone to him sliced through her.  

“No.” It didn’t shock her, she’d killed for far less. 

Sitting in silence, they both watched the rain that still fell in sheets around them, the smell of the forest stronger with a tang of damp earth. They could be anywhere in the galaxy, far away from civilisation or conflict. Instead they were in the heart of it all, waiting for a storm to break. 

“Kylo killed his father too. It’s the only thing we have in common. His father was Han Solo.” Hux spoke matter-of-factly, as if he was discussing the weather. The impact on DJ was less reserved.

“You’re kriffing with me? Han Solo? General Organa’s husband? Kylo’s father? So…”

“Yes, the Resistance’s precious princess, Leia, is Ren’s mother. Sorry, Ben Solo’s mother.” Hux let out a bitter laugh, “And now, my dear,  you know the dark secret at the heart of the Order. Snoke turned her own son against her, pulled him to the Dark Side, twisting him to his own ends. Luke Skywalker is Ren’s uncle. Ren is the son of the great leader of the Rebels.” 

DJ shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. She’d prided herself on knowing everything, and the biggest secret of the galaxy had eluded her. Pieces of the puzzle that was Ren clicked like lock cogs into place.

“That’s why Rey thinks she can turn him back to the Light. The conflict inside him.  He’s from the Light, she thinks she can bring him back. Remember, in the turbolift, in Snoke’s chambers? Who else knows?”

“ In the Order? No one living, except for me. But Rey is a fool. There is no conflict. There is no light left in that man,” Hux couldn’t mask his hate, or his certainty, “Whatever he was before, that person has gone. He has the cruelty of Snoke, without the cunning or the vision. He will use the Force to get whatever he wants or destroy the galaxy trying.” 

His mask of calm fractured at last. Hux throwing his napkin down and pulling himself out of his chair as he began pacing, as DJ tracked his every move. 

“What are we doing here?” she asked quietly.

“Eating. Well, we would have been if the food hadn’t been so bad. I should have the chef flogged..”

Hux settled his gaze on her, his eyes flaming with anger; Whole body taut with agitation. Recognition slammed into her and she cursed herself for her stupidity. She’d seen it before, of course, all clients went through it. 

It was pre-job jitters. 

Every time she had a client, rather than doing a job for herself, she suffered through this. The hologram messages to her the night before, the first demanding for her to call the whole thing off, and then the next messages, begging her to tell them it would all be ok. Seeking reassurance, comfort, that they were doing the right thing. It didn’t even matter what the job was; Slicing, theft, murder. Every client second guessed themselves, and her. DJ had learnt over the years to wait it out, ignore the sudden changes of heart, and wait for the morning to break and work to begin.

None of this had been about her - the realisation reassuring and shattering her. It was about his fear for tomorrow, for at last taking on Ren, fighting for what he most wanted in the galaxy. Not her, nothing about her. Hux hated her using the Force to feel his emotions, so she told herself that was why she didn't brush against his mind. Not fear about what she wouldn't find there. And her pain brought anger. 

“This was never about dinner. What was the point of this whole thing?” DJ stood up, throwing back a large mouthful of wine from her glass. She matched him stare for stare as a myriad of emotions flashed across his face.

“Isn’t this what women want?  Romantic dinners, dresses and…”

“I’m not sure you are an expert on what women want Hux. And sitting 10 feet away from you while you glare at me is hardly romantic”

“Are you mocking me?” his anger flared, handed clenching into fists.

“Armitage, what do you want? Why are we here? You sitting there like you would rather be anywhere else, drinking yourself into oblivion. Why? What do you want?” 

“I wanted,” he swung around to face her,  “I wanted you. Happy now? This was for you. Because tomorrow... But. But, I don't know how to do this... ” his sentences were broken, face naked with confusion and need.

Throat tight, she moved to him, cupping her hands around his beautiful face. “This is now, this is tonight. There is just us. There is no tomorrow.” a small smile curled her lips, “your troopers stationed in the trees around us. They won't turn around no matter what they hear?”

“No. They are highly trained. And loyal to only me.” his reply was automatic, only realising the implication of her words as he caught her raised eyebrow.

She slid up onto the edge of the table, breasts pushed up above the taut leather of her corset.  

“Show me how much you wanted me” 

Standing before her, he began unlacing her corset, each movement of his slim fingers setting bursts of heat through her body as the silk cord slipped through the eyelets in the black leather.  Hux’s eyes darkened with lust as they locked onto hers until the corset opened wide, releasing her breasts naked before him. The cool night air and desire hardening her nipples.

He grabbed her chin and kissed her hard,  teasing with his tongue, forcing himself into her mouth. He nipped her bottom lip, driving a deep heavy ache building inside her. 

“Lie back.” he ordered, voice cracking with need.

DJ obeyed, smoothing her dress under her, a hot wetness between her legs as Hux pushed the fabric up her thighs, hands warm on her skin. 

“Spread your legs,” his command became a growl, his body responding as he saw she was naked beneath the dress.

 

Just watching him take off his jacket and shirt excited her, the anticipation of what was in store bringing heat to her cheeks. He pushed her further up the table, hands pushing her legs further apart. Dipping his head to her core DJ arched her back, aching to be possessed by him. She could feel his tongue, followed by his fingers, slipping deep into her core. The sensation of him licking her slowly from the bottom of her slit to her clit, flicking it slowly with his tongue, as he finger fucked her, completely undid her. She bucked against his mouth, the pleasure building until she was teetering on the edge of release. Any shyness at being overheard had been abandoned the moment he’d touched her, her whimpers echoing across the clearing. 

He lifted his head, lips wet from her, “You’re so close, beg for me, and I’ll let you come.”

DJ tried to hold his head, force him back onto her, but his hands grabbed her arms, pinning them down onto the table. As his body pressed against hers, his lips found her nipple, dragging a groan of delicious agony from her.  

Releasing her flesh, “I said beg,” he repeated.

“I hate you” she hissed, until a moan overtook her, “ I need you.”

DJ heard a chuckle of victory, as he thrust the fingers that had been inside her into her mouth, tasting the tang of herself as she sucked them with relish. Hux dipped his head back between her thigh and returned to his work - licking, sucking, plunging his long fingers in and out of her, setting a rhythm that drove her on and on until she felt her climax ripping out of her with scream that would have woken the dead. 

Catching her breath, she pulled herself up, kissing him as  he slid inside her. He felt so perfect inside her, stretching her, hitting her deep.  DJ wrapped her legs around his arse, driving him deeper into her, grounding against him as her pleasure built again. 

“Come back to me” he growled into her hair,  his thrusts harder and more urgent as they found their release together. 

They were still then, finding peace at last. DJ peppered his face and neck with light kisses, tracing her fingers over the two pale moles on the side of his cheek. Trying to memorise his face. The smell and feel of him. Just in case. She lay  her head on his shoulder, hiding sudden tears

“We should go. There is so much to do. For tomorrow.” The words disappeared into nothingness, as neither moved, wishing tomorrow would never come.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

The fight flamed like a blaster shot. Searing everything in its path with the flash of its intensity. 

D’ara crashed into his private meeting with his senior staff and advisors, apoplectic with fury. She reminded him of a rathar, raging and snarling. 

Opan’s hand reached to draw his blaster, but Hux waved him away. D’ara wasn’t here to draw blood, just make a point.

“You fucking coward! You got your droid to tell me it’s over? Pack my things and send me away?” 

Hux didn’t bother to look her in the eye as he replied, keeping his attention on the datapad on the desk before him. 

“This is neither the time nor the place. You know the reasons.”  

Sloane, Peavey and Yago watched with her with unrestrained scorn, their eyes tracking her as she stalked towards him, finger stabbing at his chest. 

“Reasons? Reasons? Like the reason that you are incapable of basic human emotion? That sort of reason?” 

His patience gone, with one move he rose and took hold of her shoulders, shaking with anger. He hissed into her ear, overheard by all. “After your behaviour last night I warned you. Frankly, Ren won't tolerate your presence and neither will I.”

DJ leaned into his face, lip curled in hate. “Bastard,” and spat an incomprehensible phrase, cutting through the air like a curse.

“Take a shuttle to Coruscant. You’ll find a way to survive. People like you always do.” Hux dropped his arm, venom dripping from his words as turned his back on her and back to the meeting. Dismissing her from the room, and his life.

“I am sorry for the interruption. Shall we continue?” he took his seat again, outwardly calm. He’d had years of practice of hiding his true feelings.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she snarled at Seren, as she stormed out.

Hux’s eyes followed her as left. Her eyes had flamed with hate, hair wild as she’d screamed at him.  _ And beautiful.  _ An ache in his chest as he realised he’d never told her that; How beautiful she was. 

So many things he'd never told her. 

She was gone though, and there were more urgent matters at hand. The Supreme Leader had landed directly on Coruscant during the early hours of the morning. Hux and the senior leadership called to the Old Emperor’s palace at 5 pm evening, standard Coruscant time. Beckoned, Hux thought with a sneer, like an obedient pet.

 

Only later, alone in his quarters, before the delegation left for Coruscant did he have time to replay the strange phrase she'd hissed at him. It hadn’t been Basic. He was sure of that. The sounds twisted through his consciousness, his mind trying to frame them into words from any language that he knew. 

_ Or that she knew.  _

Mandalorian.  _ Ret'urcye mhi cyare.  _

Of course, how stupid of him. The grammar had been awful,  her pronunciation worse. But the message was still clear.

_ We’ll meet again, beloved. _

His eyes flickered over to his datapad where a small red dot glowed on the screen, gloved fists clenched. 

  
  
  
  


Cold eyes watched her as she lounged on the Order shuttle bound for the planet, DJ taking delight in the disapproving stares of the officers and techs on board. She’d never fitted in, and she’d never cared what they thought. Now she was leaving she had other things to concentrate on. To feel the kinks unwind and to begin to feel the familiar thrum of excitement through her blood just before a job. Her old self was returning, the one that relied only on her wits and talents. A less safe existence, perhaps, than on the Finalizer, but it felt good. Like an old jacket, worn in and familiar. A little like the one she was wearing in fact, stroking a finger down battered tan leather.  Finn’s loss had been her gain. He’d escaped the First Order, maybe he was lucky.

For this to work, she might need a little luck. To pull off one of the biggest jobs of her career. 

_ And Hux would have everything he ever wanted.  _

And the thought sent a tangle of conflicting emotions through her, too complex to tease out the individual threads. There was exhilaration there, but other things too. Something like fear. Machines and data were easy to understand. People, not so much. 

“Never underestimate a client,” Maz Kanata had told her once, her large, strange, eyes fixed on her. “Especially,” she'd added with her distinctive deep chuckle,”especially if you are fucking them.” 

It was good advice, a small smile lighting up her face as she idly twisted the black bracelet around her wrist, tracker reactivated on Hux’s insistence. She wondered if she would listen to it. 

 

The shuttle dropped out of the skylanes to one of the smaller hub spaceports in Sector H-37, ejecting her from the Order without a backward glance. It was the sort of neighbourhood where speeders and transports didn't hang around, barely landing before firing off their engines and taking off. Too many jackings, too many people with too little to lose and looking for an easy score, even from the Order. Within seconds DJ had merged into the heaving mass of Coruscant civilians deep into the mixed residential and retail sector, lost from sight. 

 

At the 5,000th level you were an elite member of society, living above the clouds. On the 300th you were taking your own life into your own hands. The air on Coruscant, was almost a physical entity to be chewed through at the lower levels. Thick and resinous with the pollution and stench of a city that spanned a planet. That’s if the locals didn’t get you first. The walkways were filled with the detris of Coruscant society day and night. Some walking rapidly, head down, minding their own business, trying not to attract attention. Others, shuffling, more bundles of rags than the creatures hidden underneath. This far down there was no security services. But through the stench and rubbish business was thriving, coloured signs advertising all sorts of goods and services - the biggest for things that were illegal in most of the galaxy’s systems. Crime thrived, and that was what DJ was banking on. There was only one place for the items she would require, and only one person twisted enough to sell them.

 

The walkways that cut in to the sides of the building were badly lit at these levels, the daylight struggling to slink through the closely packed structures. The air was dank and rich with the scents of unwashed bodies and excrement and piles of rubbish, some of it still living. Light from neons  from the occasional doorways posing as store fronts. She’d found lodgings 100 floors up - high enough to slightly reduce the chance of getting murdered in her sleep, but not so high that anyone would ask difficult questions. 

Her clothes were too fine for street trash, Finn’s battered jacket only giving a certain amount of dishevelment. Her weeks on the _ Finalizer _ hadn’t dimmed the expression she’d crafted over the years, strongly suggesting that tangling with her would be a lot less fun than her looks implied.

 

This far down, traders and the poor didn’t bother with windows, there was nothing to see anyway through the grime. The wall was pitted with evidence of previous altercation, marked in vivid colours with emblems if the various neighbourhood chains that claimed authority over the floors. Every few standard metres a  door was set back into the walls, scruffy and battered.

The door she stopped in front looked much like any other. Perhaps originally red, it's surface was marked with scratches and craters flash burns  from old blaster bolt fire. She went to knock as a small window slide open in its centre.

“Yes?”  she couldn’t see the face if the man who had spoken. Strong Coruscant accent in tandem with a not-quite human lisp.

“The Old Lady sent me.” Which wasn’t strictly true of course, but he was unlikely to know that. She’d been before on shopping trips for her, what was one more time? Even through the dark she could sense eyes looking her up and down. The window slid shut with a bang and the door slide open.

 

The room was small and bare, a dim halo of light coming from small ornate lamp on the large table that was the only furniture in the space, dominating the back wall. Sitting behind it, hands placed neatly, and openly on the desk’s surface was the shop’s proprietor. Pilo Sleazbaggano’s antennapalps twitched as she approached, his humanoid face set into an expression of enthusiastic welcome that was less than reassuring. Pilo was the latest in a long line of Sleazbagganos to run the family business, although two generations ago they had branched out from death sticks and moved into a more profitable line of business.  

“DJ, lovely to see you again, I had heard you and the Old Lady weren’t the best of friends? Perhaps I was mistaken?” His antenna trembled as he spoke, tasting the air for danger. 

DJ replied with a lazy smile, pulling out a small bag and letting to drop with a profitable sounding clank onto the desk.

“Your sources lead you wrong again, Pilo. I’m here on a little business of her behalf. A small job that needs a special kind of thing. Your fee would of course reflect the short notice. Think you can help me out?”

She maintained the smile as he regarded her, head cocked as her took his time figuring out whether she was telling the truth or spinning a line. Either way, that bag had sounded mighty full. DJ had banked on his greed, and the bet paid off.

Whatever you need my Dear.” One press of a finger tip and the four black drab walls slide away revealing the merchandise behind. Rows and rows of shining weaponry, back-lit to highlight the silver sleek lines and deadly firepower. Massive percussive canons, the finest of the black market. Blaster rifles and pistols of all sizes. Some distinctively First Order. Lines of proton neatly arranged on shelves, like children toys. Anything anyone could want if they wanted to start a war, or end one in a hurry. But that wasn’t what had caught her eye. On the right hand side, tucked in by the corner was a dull black box. It didn’t look like much of anything, but what was inside was exactly what she had come from. She pulled out a small square of card and slide it across the table towards him, “I’ve made a list.” 

  
  


Letting the door close behind her, she stopped and stretching, re-adjusting her jacket, giving her a subtle chance to check her weapons. Thin monomolecular blade, slipped into the line of the seam of her right boot, slim and deadly. A parting gift from Hux, as romantic as she’d expected. The sensor-proof holdout pistol she’d stolen from the Libertine and retrieved from Opan was tucked into the back of her leather trousers. Two tiny finger-blades sewn into the lining of Finn’s jacket, just in case. And in her inner breast pocket a small wooden box, emblazoned with the Sleazbaggano logo. For a family of black market thieves and death merchants, they still took pride in their products. 

The only way back up the levels was by turbolift, but this far down they were few and far apart, separated by a few hundred metres of stinking walkway. She could see the sign for one far ahead, the familiar rectangular symbol glowing in the gloom. There was little between it and her, it wouldn’t take her long to reach it.

No, there was nothing between them, she realised, throat suddenly dry. The walkway was empty. 

That set the tingle at the back of her neck up a notch. Even at this time of day, between the legitimately employed heading off up-level and the death stick peddlers emerging from their holes, there should have been people about. Shuffling through, begging, looking for scraps. But this was a ghost town. 

She was tempted to run for it, but her first instinct was very rarely the right one. Instead she stopped and listened. Calming her breathing, letting the Force flow out and through her. From back and behind, footsteps approached, getting nearer. More than two from each end. Heavy treads. Well armoured, coming from the two side corridors that intersected with the main walkway, the one in front forming a T junction before she’d hit the lift. And from in front, the footsteps were as recognisable as a finger print. Short, quick with a slight off-timing of a limp. 

 

Her hand slipped to the back of her trousers and pulled out the blaster. There was nowhere to hide or, the wall facing her blank, non residential  with doors opening from the walkway on the other side of the section. THere was no way out, unless she jumped over the barrier and into the skylanes hoping to land on a passing speeder. But she was no Jedi, and that was suicide. 

All she could do was wait. But that didn’t stop her chest constricting with a wave of panic, as her eyes flitted from the three cybernetically enhanced  troops who appeared behind and in front of her. Their distinctive red cybernetic armor and Red Spot head pieces the hallmark of the Guavians. Last to round the corner was a small man, red leather worn and tattered in places, fortified with random pieces of armour. It suited him better than the badly fitting suit on Canto Bight, but that didn’t make her glad to see him.

_ Fuck. _

DJ forced herself to relax, sending Bala-tik an expansive fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Bala, this is a nice surprise. On holiday?”. 

He didn’t move, resting his hand on the blaster hung at his side in unspoken threat. His small features curled into a sneer.

“No more running DJ. No more games. You managed to hide behind the Order, a clever move. For a while. But now your time has run out. You’re a dead woman.”

“Drop your weapons. Search her.” At the command two Red Spots ripped the blaster from her hand and roughly pulled the jacket off, flnging it on the ground. She had a bit of a reputation of finger blades so she couldn’t blame their wariness. Hands patted down her sides and legs, down the boots before they nodded to Bala-Tik and retreated. She was clean.

Leaning against the cold metal railings, she tried for a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

“Bala, don’t be like that. It is a little misunderstanding, that’s all. Kanjiklub have spun you a story. Sure, I did a little job for them, but nothing we can’t give back two-fold. Let me talk to the Old Lady and we can sort this whole thing out...” 

Bala-Tik gave her the kind of dead-eyed stare she’d seen before in other people’s eyes, just before things went bad. Like he was already staring at her corpse. This wasn’t about business, he wanted to hurt her. And more.

The realisation sliced through her like a blade. There was no talking out of this, no business agreement. For reasons known only to herself, the head of the Guavians, the Old Lady herself, had hung her out to dry.

For once, DJ hadn’t seen that coming. There’d been misunderstandings before, of course, but DJ had always been too valuable to kill. Now, she realised, she wasn’t; The thought surged adrenaline through her. All she wanted to do was run, but the Red Spots didn’t give her that option. With their cybernetic enhancements they were too fast, too well armed. Too deadly.

But she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her fear, betraying her vulnerability. Half the battle of surviving was staying calm, not letting panic and fear overwhelm you even when your palms were slick with sweat and heart hammering. 

_ Pain is pain, but never let them see you flinch.  _

The remembered words from her training didn’t exactly console her. Heart hammering she clung onto the positives, onto hope. Between now and getting back to his ship, she’d come up with something. Escape would be easy, there were a million ways to cause as distraction and get away in the crowds on the higher levels. Use the knife still tucked into her boot to cause enough damage to loosen the noose around her. 

The closest Red Spot to Bala backtracked a little, closer to the lift and sent a blaster bolt through a door control panel. Shit, she could have run for it, she realised, hidden. The door slide open, the almost robotic figure disappearing inside. Within seconds he dragged out a stunned creature, a female Klatooinian, child at her breast, another sobbing at her skirts. The family shambled away down the echoing walkway. 

“What do you want Bala?” it took her everything to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“Oh, want I’ve alway wanted. And I’m going to enjoy it, and then you are going to beg me to kill you.” He spat on the ground, “We do this here and now. Bring her.” Baka-Tik watched as she was dragged struggling into the stinking quarters, before following her in.


	23. Chapter 23

General Armitage Hux had spent his 34 years masking his inner feelings and desires, molding his body and his mind into the perfect officer of the glorious First Order. Today would be no different. He would mask his hatred, his disdain, the pain still echoing through his body from years of being battered like a rag doll by Ren and Snoke alike. All this he would hide. All anyone would see would be the officer he had been born to be. 

Back ramrod straight. Coat in place over his shoulders, forming the semblance of a cape. Hux knew his uniform was immaculate, but still gave each sleeve a small tug to remove non-existence creases. Gloves smooth and spotless, hands clasped behind him in parade rest. Face set into an expression of guarded alertness. 

D’ara had told him it was easier to hide the truth when you let your mind believe what it sees;  _ Don’t think, just let yourself remember.  _ The advice had seemed trite, but he’d nodded, taking her advice in this as in so many other things. Trusting did not come naturally to him.

Of course, the little set pieces they had performed had been for Sloane and the other senior crew’s benefit. There were a subterfuge, but a necessary one. If Ren searched their minds he would only find what Hux had wanted them to see. As for himself, Hux trusted that his years of experience would see him through if Ren rifled through his consciousness. 

Hux and Order senior officers waited in the antechamber for admittance in silence, facing the door to the old Emperor’s throne room, until recently repurposed by the Coruscant citizens as a opera hall.

Admiral Sloane’s usual calm seemed to have abandoned her, hands in constant movement, eyes flitting across the grouped officers, expression unreadable. It was uncharacteristic. She’d not met Ren before, escaping at the beginning of Snoke’s purges of old Imperials who did not fit his mold for leadership. He’d thought her too dutiful to the old Empire, too cautious and thoughtful to be adequately obedient. 

 

Hux’s subordinates knew who they were about to face, their faces solemn and taut with apprehension. Hux scorned them for their fear. He had never been afraid of Ren, and he wasn’t going to start now. His father had taught him that the worse enemy a man could face was fear itself. It was the only useful thing the monster had shared with him, and he’d made sure the young boy had plenty of opportunity to test out the concept. 

He had never cowered then, and he was certainly not about to grovel to a boy who would set himself up as some back world king. Ren had always had a touch of the dramatic about him, so this idiocy about being coronated as Emperor as well as Supreme Leader should have come as no surprise. And in such a place, rank with sorcery and superstition,  the old Jedi temple that Emperor Palpatine had taken for his own. 

 

The massive doors of the throne room swung open soundlessly, giving the party entrance  to a dimly lit chamber with huge windows opening out to the Coruscant skyline along each walls and set into the roofline. It was built on a scale to impress and to awe; The light not quite able to penetrate through to the centre of the chamber leaving it dim. It was a hovel compared to the glory that had been the Supremacy, sniffed Hux, unmoved by black stark grandeur surrounding as they marched towards the dias at the far end.

In the gloomy distance, illuminated by shafts of light arcing down from the windows set into the roof far above, a throne. Raised four steps above the floor; Massive, solid black and unadorned. So simple  for something representing so much power. And Ren awaited their coming, eyes dark.

He was almost slouching, indolent and at ease in his new sanctum, mirroring the creature whose life he had brought to an end. But his dark eyes betrayed him. Hungry, restless, ranging across the visitors, a predator marking out his next prey. 

Hux’s eyes were drawn to that of Supreme Leader’s, the familiar feel of the Force licking around them all. 

“Supreme Leader” Hux held his gaze, under his own terms, unblinking green eyes hard. Fists clenched at his sides, nerves braced for the clench of leather-clad fingers around his neck at any moment.

“General.” Ren’s voice, deep and low, his eyes scanning the party, “I do not see Captain Phasma?” Her silver figure would have been hard to miss even in a crowd. 

Hux’s face registered a look of regret to accompany the practiced lie.

“Her injuries were more significant than previously suspected. She succumbed to them her two days after you left. It is a great loss to the Order.” 

“And your  ‘contractor’? The slicer? Where is she?” 

“She became surplus  to requirements. Her skills were …limited” Hux replied with a shrug, drawing a dark chuckle from the Supreme Leader, his eyes ranging over the small group assembled before him. The answer was not questioned, Ren’s interest faded and gone, but Hux’s breath caught in his chest with Kylo’s next words.

“I have something for the Coronation. A present. A sacrifice.” 

A simple raise of his fist and four troopers wheeled in a strange metal structure, almost cage-like in shape, but without the bars on its outside to keep in the prisoner trapped within. No bars were needed to rob the inhabitant of their freedom. Arms pulled up cruelly, hands bound above their head, slumped on the base. They did not move, barely breathing. Drugged, or maybe dying.  They were part of the Resistance, the enemy, but for a moment even Hux felt a shaft of pity cutting through him, quickly mastered. 

“A fitting tribute,” Hux agreed, the tidal wave of his thoughts threatening to overwhelm the walls he had placed around them. 

“In a few days I have managed to do what you have been unable to in so many years General…. But still, I find myself inclined to be merciful. Generous even. Tomorrow evening come to my chambers, I wish to discuss my plans for the Order’s leadership. I understand the title of Grand Marshall was not granted by Snoke. Perhaps, now, we may consider your future.”

Even now, when everything hung in the balance, Hux fought a suicidal urge to sneer at the boy playing at leadership, curse him for daring to treat him as his inferior. But the thoughts did not breach his consciousness and Hux returned a simple tight smile.

“I would be honoured, Supreme Leader.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Dark and fetid, the room was stuffed to the brim with all the worldly possessions of the family that Bala-Tik’s man had just evicted. The smell was almost indescribable, a combination of unwashed bodies in close convines and the reek of traditional foodstuffs left boiling on the small makeshift store in the corner of the hovel. The walls were a mass of pipes and hoses running every which way, linking heat and air and refuse through the multitude of apartments. It was easier and cheaper to have them exposed, and the inhabitants had used them for their own ends, as makeshift shelves piled high with practical equipment and nooks for special treasures. Most of the floor space was taken up with a large sleeping platform, piled high with dirty coloured rugs and blankets, discarded by their owners, small brown cloth dolls left on top. 

Standing in the only free space, up hard against a cheap metal table and mismatched chairs, DJ watched Bala order the soldiers to close the door behind him, leaving them alone, facing each other.

A leer twisted Bala’s face as he hefted his blaster, barrel pointing directly at her chest. The fear she’d felt earlier, burning through her had been replaced with a calmness brought on by the knowledge that he had just evened the odds. Staring down at the blaster, she had to concede that she was perhaps looking on the bright side. Self preservation kept her from considering the alternative future ahead.

“This is a really bad idea, Bala, you don’t want to do this,” her words were soft, with a deliberate quaver of fear. 

“Yeah, I do. In fact, I’ve wanted to for a long time. Take the jacket off. Throw it.” Bala sneered, rodent like features twisted.

She slipped Finn’s jacket off her shoulders, folding it slowly, conscious of her purchase in its small wooden box in the pocket, and the knives sewn into its hem. Bala was wise to that trick though and keen to avoid a throwing knife impaled in his stomach.

“Throw it over there, in the corner.” She obeyed, eyes tight on his every second, alert to every movement. He was a small man, barely her height but with a wiry strength that she'd struggle to overpower in a fair fight. 

So, whatever happened, it couldn’t be fair.

“Untie that washing line, throw it to me” DJ unwrapped a rope from metal loops above her head, one of many makeshift laundry lines coiled just above their heads. Bala picked up the line and judged its worthiness, coming to the same conclusion she had. Not the strongest, but wrapped around her wrists multiple times, it would hold her in place.

“On the bed, on your knees, hands on the wall, on the big pipe.” 

“Don’t you want me to get undressed first?” DJ worked hard to keep her tone flirtatious, the words like sand in her dry throat. She began to pull up the hem of her shirt, revealing the smooth plain of her stomach, inching enticingly higher.

“No, I have blades for that,” Bala stated with a chuckle, the words chilling her, bringing a fresh wave of unease. 

Her flight instinct told her to run, but her experience told her she’d have a blaster shot in her back before she got to the door. She had to bide her time , and at least leaving her clothes on meant leaving on her boots, and her one chance of getting out of this. She dropped the shift with a shrug.

“Now”

She started to move towards the bed, obedient and submissive, turning only as she reached it.

“After all this time, you are finally going to get me right where you want me…. Don’t you want to see my face while you fuck me? Hurt me?” the words almost choked her, but she tried to make them sound seductive, her voice low and soft. The growing bulge in his leather trousers told her she’d hit the mark. The thought of watching her tears and whimpers as he took her to tempting to ignore. 

The leer had broken into a full blown grin, “Lie down, arms above your head, up toward the wall” he motioned with the blaster. 

Every fibre of her being revolted against lying on the bed, making herself look vulnerable and available, but she did as she was told, shimmering up the sleeping platform until her fingertips brushed the pipework on the wall. The musty animal smell of the bedding filled her nostrils, turning her stomach. 

From her position she watched him remove his overcoat hurriedly, eyes glazing over with growing desire and victory, blaster loose in his hands. 

She could sense that he was drunk of his success. His ego didn’t allow him to question how easy this was, how little she was fighting. A part of him probably even thought that she wanted it, as much as him. That she thought he was only after a fuck, and then, when he’d had enough and he slit her throat, well, that would be his little joke on her.

The sleeping platform covered the back third of the room, built in against the three walls, to get to her hands, to secure her, he’d have to crawl up to her to do it. She just had to make it look like a good idea, one worth dropping his blaster and his xxx for.

Moved, as if to get more comfortable, arching her back, pushing out her breasts, watching for the impact she had on him. She’d seen him watching her over the years, eyes lingering a little too long, tongue sliding along his bottom lip as he’d taken the scenic route looking her over when she’d gone to the Old Lady for jobs. 

“Try anything and I’ll shoot you, understood?” his voice was hoarse.

She nodded, tensing as he awkwardly fell to his knees and started to pull himself up towards her, his focus on the rope in his hands, and the blaster slung around his chest. Bala looked almost funny, like oversized child playing a game of fathiers. Almost funny. 

But that wasn’t going to work, she needed him to be closer, not to her side. 

“Why don’t you come this way? Let me feel what I’m going to get,” the words were a purr, as she spread her legs with an open invitation. 

Bala swallowed deeply, face flushing at the obvious invitation. He moved off and started again, placing himself over her legs, crawling up her, his breath thick on her skin until he was straddling her waist, leaning forward over her to begin to tie her hands, blaster almost swinging in her face.

Rolling quick to the left, her hip catching him and arms pushing him over, unbalancing Bala.  His yelp sounded almost child-like as he toppled off her, losing his balance and his control. In one smooth practiced move she reached down to her boot and rolled onto top of him, straddling him in turn, thighs tight around his chest. Blade in one hand up hard against his neck,  the other wrenching the blaster away from his grasping fingers. 

“Who ordered this?” the blade drew blood from his stubbly neck

“You’re a dead woman” he snarled, scrabbling uselessly for his weapon she’d tossed aside.

“Bala, we’ve known each other a long time, tell me who ordered this and I’ll let you live,” and at the moment she almost even believed it herself. DJ had never liked killing, never found pleasure in it like some did, but she would always do what she had to.

“A Guavian never betrays…” the words almost hid the movement of Bala bending a finger into his palm, the click of a wrist knife springing up from his sleeve, about to slice into her throat. In an instant reaction she forced the mononuclear blade up through his neck, hitting deep into the base of his skull, killing him almost instantly, blood gurgling a little from the wound, face suddenly slack.

She pushed herself off him, sick to the stomach, hand wet with blood. Choking back bile she stood, nauseous from nerves and the rich smell of him all over her. Wiping the blade against a filthy cloth she pulled from a  crevice in the wall she tucked it away back into her boot. She was alive, he was dead and she couldn’t look across him lying there, spread eagled. 

But she still wasn’t free.

His soldiers wouldn’t breach the door and interrupt his fun, not unless they sensed something was wrong, but they would give him time to enjoy his sport. There was no way to go out that way, not with his Red Spots out there. She might make it, she might not, the odds were too close to call.

There had to be another way out. No windows, except for a grimy small one that faced onto the walkway and right on top of the soldiers. Apart from that the apartment was a box. The back walls hard up against the adjoining wall of other apartments hard up against each other in the tight tenement building. There were no tools to force her way through, and it would be too noisy.

As she thought the only sound came from the food bubbling away in the pot, steam rising up, disappearing through a large square wire mesh covered hole.

Ventilation, it had to connect up to the outside, all she had to do was crawl up and through. First a chair to stand on, and then grabbing Finn’s jacket she pulled off the grating and pushed it through. Only then did she glance back at Bala’s body, before she pulled herself up through the hole and out of the apartment. 

  
  
  


Darkness had fallen outside the cantina, as DJ eased into a corner booth, filled with shadows and little else. A woman like her in a place like this was a receipt  for admirers she could do without. The clientiale didn’t yet look drunk enough to mistake her cold stare for an invitation. Swirling her glass as she waited, she watched the dark liquid pool and eddy. She hadn’t tasted it, in a place like this the rule was always don’t drink. Chances were you would ever wake up somewhere else, or not at all. She placed the glass down and eyed her hand, the slight nervous tremor finally calming. 

Another roll of her stomach as Bala’s body flashed through her mind. Killing people wasn’t usually her game plan; not like that anyway. The blood had washed off in the cantina’s bathroom, but the tang of it still haunted her.  And there was another sensation, another ache running across her shoulders that had taken her hours to name, to identify. Kriffing hell, she needed a drink. Something to dull the shock of realising what had caused that pang in her chest. She missed  him. 

The weight of his arms around her, missed the protected feeling that DJ hadn’t even realised he gave her. It seemed surreal, but ever since she’d lain on his lap, his hands in her hair, voice soft as the world went dark, he’d made her feel safe. And he was so far away.

 

She cast the thoughts aside, pulling herself back into the moment and the job at hand. One eye on the door, the other on the neverending game of sabacc playing out in front of her, the players banter bringing the odd smile to her face as the abuse got more florid and innovative. The place was filled with the sort of scum that littered the galaxy, and it stank of old booze and worse. This, she grinned, was a proper cantina, not like that sterile Order bar with clean floors and polite conversation. 

Her contemplations were disturbed as the person she’d come to meet slipped into the booth opposite her and without a word placed a datapad on the sticky table.  

“Successful day?” Opan kept his voice low, the Order officer  unrecognisable in brown leather and a cloak that he’d obviously requisitioned from the same supply store as her own. 

DJ nodded, eyes flicking to the jacket by her side.

“And you?”

Opan nodded in reply, pulling up the screen of the datapad, pushing it over. 

“I think I have what we need,” A small  image of a man flickered on the screen. The figure looked young, maybe 20, wearing a technican’s uniform.

“Who is he?”

“Infiltrator. Rebel. He doesn’t know we know of course, but one of our agents on their side tipped us off. Stationed on the  _ Retribution _ .” 

DJ nodded agreement, swiping through files and reports on Opan’s datapad as she brought up the next image.

“This one could be useful.”

This time, the face of an older woman, stared out sightlessly.

“She’s a Rebel spy?”

“Frankly, we aren’t sure. But will she serve?”

“Fine. All these people, why…” her hand waved across ten folders on the screen, each representing someone within the Order who actively sought to work for the Rebels, or had sympathies.

“Why haven’t we exposed them as traitors? Some we do, but these we have fed false intelligence or kept them out of positions of real influence or knowledge.”

“Keeping them for a rainy day?”

Opan gave a narrow smile.

Oh, it was raining alright. It was pouring down.

“And  the other thing?” she asked, gaze on the room around her, checking to see if anyone looked a little too interested in their conversation

“As you anticipated.”

His words slammed into her, buffeting her with a mix of apprehension and excitement. It was on. 

“But, you will want to see this.” He leant over and tapped open another image file. The picture was shaky, blurred. Obviously taken from a hidden camera, but it was clear enough to show the figure held in the metal frame, arms suspended by chains, head fallen foward. She didn’t need to see the face to be certain.  Even with the angle and the dishevelled clothes and hair, she could still recognise the imprisoned figure. 

A cold stab of fear shot through her alarm. Rey. The scavenger girl. Ren had done this, to her.

She slid the pad back, Opan setting a comm in its place in front of her - slender and high tech, worth more than most of the bar’s customers would make in a year.

“The General wants to know how to get in contact with you.”

“In case I decide to not come back? Or in case I get into trouble?”

“Let’s assume the latter shall we?” 

“Who has access to the signal?”

“It’s highly encrypted. Only Hux and I will know you have it.”

“I said no.” she slid it back.

Opan shrugged and slipped it back into his pocket. She’d been through this already with Hux before she’d left - him demanding, her standing her ground. This wasn’t some First Order military operation with banners and legions of white armoured soliders. No one could know her continuing connection to him. Carrying something that high tech, she may as well as have sign on her back saying Order spy. And it was best for everyone that what she was up to now, and tomorrow, could not be traced back to Hux.

The game of sabacc had come to the usual conclusion, a drunk Balosar drawing a knife and tipping the table over the the shouts of the other players. DJ turned towards the noise, the low light catching the darkening bruise above her eye she’d got in the struggle with Bala. 

“Trouble?” Opan raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. This doesn’t change anything,” she waved a hand at the spot where the datapad had been, “It just makes it…slightly more complicated” 

It made it a lot more things, she swallowed deep. SJ pulled the box out from the inside of the jacket and slid it across to Opan, fingers lingering on its top as she struggled for the right words.

“Tell him…. Tell him that I …. Tell him to be careful.” she whispered.

  
  
  
  



	24. Claiming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies it has taken me so long to update. However, I've been spending the time drafting the last few chapters all in one go, so will post them over the next weeks. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The corridors leading up to the Emperor Palatine’s old private chambers were empty and still, stretching far into the distance. Even the footsteps of Hux’s soft soled boots, designed for silence, echoed down the halls. Hux had overseen legions of stormtroopers to secure the lower levels of the Palace, but the upper levels were almost free of Order security. It’s what Ren always preferred, Hux told himself as he stalked towards the Supreme Leader’s quarters. 

His stride appeared as confident as ever, but each step was a exercise in self-will, taking him closer towards the inevitable conclusion of his 34 years. 

_ Where was D’ara? _

The name rose and then sunk again, his mind snapping closed, not allowing the thought to flower. Too dangerous now, too close to Ren to let his true thoughts through. Hux could only show himself as a blank slate, mirroring back what Ren needed to see. A puppet, a shadow of himself. His contempt for Ren hidden so deep inside him that its release would make his victory even more delicious when it came.

_ If it came. _

His body was tightly bound, nerves pulling each muscle into a hard cord under his uniform. He’d had never had the talent for relaxing and tonight wasn’t the time to start. He stood straight, his military training evident to any observer in every line of his body as he reached the two vast black doors and paused. Hux managed to look unsurprised as they swung open without apparent human assistance giving him a view across the chamber. Far across the room, his distinctive hulking form black against the light from a huge open window stood Ren.

Entering the room Hux noted that he was dressed more casually than he’d ever seen him, the hard layers of thick fabric and wool replaced by a soft black shirt and trousers. It made him look younger, more innocent than usual; Hair swept back with the breeze from the open window, air fragranced from the gardens beyond. Ren looked more like the young man he was, than Snoke’s apprentice, twisted by years under his control. 

The sound of movement, the familiar rustle of armour, pulled Hux’s eyes behind him as he drew near to the Leader. Two stormtroopers flanked the inner side of the doors. So, Ren hadn’t rid himself of all trappings of the Order he was about to formally inherit. In time he may have his own personal guards, but as yet he was making do with Hux’s own men.

Ren had always amused Hux with his inelegant gait, more a waddle than a walk but Hux’s face was impassive as his leader turned towards him, face set into hard lines.

“I think for our conversation, it may be better for there to be no witnesses,” Kylo’s toneless monotone didn’t alter as he gave a command.

“Shoot each other. Now.” The command was given without raising his voice, ominous with the absence of emotion behind it. He was instantly obeyed, the two stormtroopers turning to face each other and opening fire. A single blaster shot at close range ending their lives, the faceless soldiers crumpling to the floor, blood seeping from the blackened craters on their chests.

Hux had faced the mindless violence and terror of Snoke and Ren before, but such a callous display of power and ruthlessness shook him to his core, his face paling despite his best efforts to stay emotionless. He dragged his gaze from them, feeling Ren’s dark eyes boring into him with the question he had known was coming.

“The woman, she’s gone?” There was no need for further clarification, there could only be one woman Ren was referring to.

“Yes, it was a temporary….arrangement.” Hux coughed, his embarrassment at referring to his private affairs evident by the set of his gaze on the floor.

“Why?” Ren’s tone was soft, curious. 

Hux snorted, face twisting with disdain at her memory, “You know how easily I bore of victories so easily won, and… she was not a suitable companion for an Order officer.” Hux replied with a tight smile, finally lifting his eyes. At last he felt it, the familiar ache as Ren’s mind brushed softly against his. Hux let his mocking smile fade, his face flushing with an echo of his loss, hurt, embarrassment at feeling something as tawdry as attraction to someone not of his standing. Or, indeed, any sort of emotion at all.

“She left.” straightening his shoulders as the admission left his lips. Ren’s mouth twisted into something approximating a smile of his own.

  
  


 

 

Ren felt Hux’s emotions flow around him, causing small eddies in the Force;  Confusion, shame and a deep torrent of need. Suppressed, but bright and fresh, twisted through with disgust at his own weakness. A few weeks ago he would have mocked the General, scorned him for his vulnerability. Now, standing close to the man who had shown him nothing but contempt and scorn, he felt a strange kindred understanding. 

They had always been as different as night and day. 

Hux had always kept himself so controlled, ram-rod upright and under control. Ren had never been that way - embracing his passions like a wild animal, raging with the Force, never binding his emotions. 

And yet, here they were, in this room at certain of the galaxy, almost drowning  with a thirst neither had been able to quench.

Ren’s need had taken him to the brink of sanity, overwhelmed him with its intensity and lead him down a path from which there could be no return. Its denial had fuelled an anger that had engulfed him, and led to a loss that he could not allow himself to contemplate.

A part of him couldn’t help but wonder how it had come to this. Armitage Hux, the man he’d treated with such loathing and disrespect. Days of childish bickering, angling after Snoke’s attention, like two siblings desperately squabbling for the attention of an neglectful parent. There had been no love lost, only contempt and a regular urge to end the man’s life.

 

Only after Snoke’s death had he realised the creature’s wisdom. Maybe, Kylo smiled darkly,  it had been his plan all along, bringing them together. So different, yet complementary. The scavenger girl had been merely a diversion, nothing more than a way to capture Luke. Never meant to be anything to him.

_ A rapid cur’s weakness can be a sharp tool _

Snoke’s words had been lost on him at the time, too many other things to consider. The bond with Rey, more a cursed knot wrapped around his throat than a blessing, now cut away.

And Hux’s weaknesses were many; He was vain, ambitious, disrespectful of Ren’s power and the Force. Concerned only for his precious technology and glory. 

But Snoke had been wiser that Ren, he conceded grudgingly. Reading Hux’s thoughts had confirmed it that day on the bridge, his naked longing, dark with shame at his own weakness for his need.

It had taken Ren time, but the cur’s greatest weakness was that he needed to be wanted, to matter to someone. Valued, praised and important. It was all he wanted, and it ripped his soul apart.

And yet Rey had awoken the same need in Ren, and left him aching when it was left unfulfilled. No, it would not be Rey, not now.

Two dark souls linked by destiny, no one else. Over the last few days, after all that had happened, when other options were denied, when other plans came to nothing, then he knew the truth. Only one other could understand the loneliness of choosing power and glory above all else.

_ Hux. _

_ The first, the last, the only. _

 

Seeing that whore in Hux’s quarters had lit a flame, burning bright in the dark, something he couldn’t bring himself to articulate at the time. He hated Hux, but he was his whipping boy. He belonged to him, not hers, not anyone’s. He was his to command. He wanted him, all of him.

And he would have him, draw him all with the perfect lure of all - Hux’s lust for power.

“I need someone by my side, a Grand Marshal, to lead my troops, to enact my wishes. We have fought in the past, jockeying for the attentions of Snoke. But now…. “ Ren voice was low, as he walked around in ever decreasing circles,  surrounding his prey, “There is only us two.”

Hux stayed silent, green eyes following his as he walked.

“Who are you loyal to?” Ren brought his face only inches away from his General’s, the clean smell of him  intoxicating as he tentatively stroked his fingertip down Hux’s cheek. There was almost a childlike wonder, touching him for the first time without wishing to cause pain. Curious and unsure that Hux would recoil from him. Need built within him, as his dark eyes sought Hux’s green, unable to hold back the question that had been forming since he’d seen him the day before. 

It was designed to be personal, to cut to the crux of the matter. Not ‘who do you serve?’ or ‘Who are you loyal to?”. Kylo had gone far past those limited notions. No, he needed more, needed to claim complete ownership of his General. He could have used the Force on him, of course, secured the obedience he sought with a simple flick of his hand, but he held back. 

He leant into Hux almost challenging the other man to lean away as he savoured again the Order standard issue scent of him. 

”Who do you belong to?” he whispered.


	25. Adea

The borrowed First Order cap was busy justifying  every prejudice DJ had ever had against hats; Tightly fitted onto her neat bun, the rim was busy cutting a pale line into her forehead. Beads of sweat were forming under its thick wool, her scalp growing itchy with the heat of the Palace. The first Order uniform fit as well as the one she’d stolen randomly from the Supremacy; Opan’s estimate of her body shape leaving her with trousers straining across her bum and a voluminous jacket that swamped her shoulders and waist. But it wasn’t there to make her look pretty, it just had to get her into the Palace.

The twilight hours of Coruscant brought a shift change of First Order staff, all watched silently by pale-faced native servants, pressed tight to the walls and corners. Preparations for the mass spectacle of a grand coronation paused until the next day, Officers and technicians heading back to neat rows of transport shuttles lined on the Palace’s Grand Arcade. The arched entrance halls were growing quiet, left to scattered clusters of white uniformed security officers and armoured stormtroopers marching in orderly columns, boots echoing through the empty stately space. Uniform on, head down, she blended in. Just one of the last stragglers running late with last minute orders to be processed and completed. No one gave her a second glance as they scanned her documents and code cylinder to allow her access to the building. Even the eyes of Colonel Garmuth, Head of Security, senses as sharp as an  acklay’s, passed over her without pause.

Ducking down through a side corridor, she made use of the access ways designed for servants and less exalted visitors, tracking through the Palace until the forbidding black doors that Hux passed through the day before came into sight.

He was here, somewhere in the vast complex. The timeline of their plan told her that, but something else too, something radiating from the Force. A merest shade of him, but enough, for the moment to keep on task. He was here, he was alive. 

For now. 

 

Slipping through the immense doors in the vast chamber beyond, DJ’s eyes momentarily overwhelmed by the vast cityscape visible through the room length windows. The room was bathed in orange and golden with the fading light of the sun growing lower against the sky, dipping the grand chamber into shadow. The two troopers at the door swiftly put out of action by a blaster on stun, toppling like felled trees. They’d be out for hours. She had the room, and her target, to herself.

 

DJ could smell the girl before she saw her, the cage curtained in shadow at the back of the chamber.  Thick in the air was sweat, dirt and the acidic tang of fear. Other scents too, male and sharp, DJ swallowing down a wave of pity for the scrap of a girl. She was a stranger she reminded herself, nothing more than a tool, but still, no one deserved to be used like that.

 

Rey’s weight was suspended from her arms, wrists wrapped tight and then chained, hanging from bars suspended from the top of the open sided cage. Restraints like these should have been easy for a Force user to escape, but she was unconscious and a prisoner.

But Ren wasn’t using the Force to keep her there, something much simpler. He’d drugged her and left her here as a trophy, but perhaps that had been a kindness. After seeing the holocam images DJ had gone back to the little shop, Pilo Sleazbaggano’s face registering nothing more than mild surprise that she had returned. Maybe he had tipped off Bala. Maybe he hadn’t. All going well, she could unearth the truth later, she eyes wary as she purchased the antidote she would need to counter what Ren had given her. It wasn’t a particularly rare drug, but the Jedi had discovered almost by accident the impact it had on the mind of a Force user. It would not kill, but it seemed to dampen their sensitivity and connection to the Force, making them vulnerable and easier to harm. Few knew, the Guardians and others had kept the knowledge close. But someone had told Ren, and her father had told her - and now it was to be the key to her plan. 

It was hard to judge how long the Rebel girl been like this - days maybe; Less than a week perhaps. Still enough time for Rey’s lips to whiten and crack with dehydration, dark hair hanging in stinking cords around her face. Her clothes, plain homespun and simple before, reduced to filthy rags torn to reveal a bloodied side and mottled bruises. Ren had not been gentle, taking whatever he wanted from her small frame, DJ’s anger flaming bright with the realisation. This girl was nothing to her, but no woman should have had to suffer his treatment. 

Cap tossed aside, DJ knelt into the frame, metal bars digging into her calves. Holding the unconscious girl’s chin in one hand, skin cold against hers, she tried to wedge open her mouth. The pill she held wasn’t big, a small leaf wrapped around a stinking paste, but  Rey’s mouth had clamped shut in her comatose state, her teeth an impenetrable barrier.

Trying to remove the restraints and chains to get Rey out would have to wait, DJ surveying them with a practiced glance. She didn’t have tools, and blaster bolt would be both too loud and too dangerous. Rey had to be awake for her to get free, and to wake, she had to swallow the pill.

“Kriff’s sake” the curse came hard from under her breath as she tried to reposition Rey’s head, pulling up her chin, trying to force her mouth open.  There was no other way of combating the drug’s effects and she was running out of time. Wedging a finger in the girl’s mouth. she yanked. If the woman had been awake it would have caused pain, but she didn’t flinch. DJ’s finger warm and wet with saliva Rey’s teeth parted just enough until there was enough room to push it in. DJ closed her jaw onto the small rectangular package, waiting for the leave to open and the paste dissolve. Many of the old ways had been lost, but the Guardians of the Whills had been the keepers of the knowledge, the rites and the secrets of the Jedis. And this, wrapped in the leaves, was one of them - that the poison could be reversed.

Now she just needed to wait. 

Each minute felt like a century, but slowly, imperceptibly, the antidote did its work.

  
  


Lieutenant Seren’s face was flushed pink, even the long treadmill runs in the fitness rooms of the  _ Finalizer _ had not prepared her for  sprinting the miles of Palace corridors. Admiral Sloane had taken rooms here, although Hux had not, for private reasons Seren considered not her business. 

The last fews days had pushed the young Lieutenant to her limits, taking her to the very edges of her training, but it had been worth it. To serve the Order, to serve her General in his hour of need. 

Of course, as the Admiral had told her, the General wanted her assignment to be kept secret. No one could know she was working undercover for Hux, that’s why they couldn’t meet of course, all communications via Admiral Sloane. Hux had never trusted DJ, Sloane had told her over that first quiet drink in the officer’s bar. No, even then, his apparent attachment to her had been a ruse. Seren’s heart had soared at the news, chest tightening with hope that Hux was placing her in such a role of importance because of their former involvement. Because giving her an assignment like this must mean he trusted her still, perhaps even cared for her. Seren’s assignment was to track DJ’s movements, uncover the treachery that she had always suspected, the woman weddling her way into Hux’s life and bed. 

 

Even with her First Order surveillance training, she’d had a moment of fear, facing against aged leader of a criminal cartel, the ancient female alien, playing court like one of the Hutt’s on a stinking vessel. The creature had eyed her with a mix of distrust and anger but she was part of the Order, and no crime cartel could afford to incur their wroth.  

But discomfort of slumming it had paid off, turning the Old Lady against her former ally, and sending Bala-Tik in with the kill order. His body had been found, Seren surprised that the woman had managed to escape with her life. At first she’d thought the slicer to be too flippant and relaxed to be deadly, but then her stomach twisted with the sudden memory of the evening at the bar. Yes, maybe then she should have realised DJ might have been harder to kill than she looked. Still, the Guavians had found her and slowed her down, allowing Seren to track her back to the Palace.

 

Now the blurry images from the holocam she’d secretly fitted in the main audience room were finally giving her the proof she had needed of the slicer’s true allegiance. There could be no escape for her now, Hux’s vengeance would be swift and final. Seren wondered if she would be permitted to watch it, as a special reward for her service and loyalty.

 

There could be no time for deference or the usual military protocol, the news was too important. Seren thumped on the door controls, rushing into the rooms without waiting for permission to enter, her heart racing her daring for the breach.

 

“Admiral…,” she panted, waiting for enough breath to continue,” I’ve just had word, she’s here. She’s in the palace.” The pink glow of her cheeks couldn’t distract from  the triumph in her eyes. 

Sloane turned slowly in her chair, placing the datapad she’d been reading down with care on a side table, a vision of considered elegance and calm. 

“Lieutenant, take your time. Who exactly is here?” the words unhurried.

“DJ, the slicer,” at the name Sloane’s mask slipped a fraction.

“Where is she? Do we have any further reports?” she snapped watching the girl try to master her breathing.

“She…we need to stop her. The main chamber was left unguarded it seems, I don’t completely understand, but it… I think she is trying to break out the prisoner, I followed her…. But then came to you. She’s betraying us, betraying Hux... she’s on the Rebels side. I knew it… I knew…” the words came out in a flurry, Seren’s mouth framing a sneer even as she panted.

 

Sloane’s face did not betray her, but she felt a jolt of sharp surprise that moved into anger and resolve. So, it had been a ruse afterall. They may have fooled the likes of Seren, but Sloane was far more experienced in the art of subterfuge. 

The fight, her leaving. Armitage had kept something from her, hidden his true plans. She’d suspected it of course, the way he’d decided not to go ahead with the plan she had suggested to him. But the question was of course why?

DJ had never been a Rebel spy, which meant she was working with Hux. Releasing Rey, what would be the point. Such an act was treason against the Order. Perhaps, could it be to steal Ren’s prize from under him? Shame him but for what purpose? Unless, Sloane’s eyes widened imperceptibly as the truth came to her.

Of course. The plan had changed, but perhaps the goal had not. He was going for the leadership, but this time behind her back. Working with his whore, working in the shadows.

 

“We need to warn Hux” Seren’s eyes were bright, the Admiral reading her mind. Seren would stride in to his chamber’s denouncing DJ as a traitor and a spy and he, in recognition of her value and loyalty would take her in his arms and make her is once again. That’s the future the girl saw, that was why she had been so keen to help Sloane discredt the slicer.Oh, the naivety of youth, the vanity of affection,  Sloane watching the girl itching to run from the room and receive her reward.

“No”

Seren’s face twisted into a frown, “I don’t understand…” she stuttered.

Sloane rose from her seat and came close to her, close enough almost to hug and comfort if she so chose. She’d known from the beginning of course, Seren had reeked of it. Love, adoration turned sour and bitter when Hux had tossed her aside. It flamed her hate for DJ and had made her a useful ally. No, perhaps pawn was a more accurate assessment. The girl had taken risks that she could, and would not.

The bracelet on the slicer’s wrist had been something that she had overlooked, and yet Seren had recognised it as a twin to the animal Hux  had adopted as his own. The irony still brought a wry smile to her lips; Hux seemed to be developing a penchant for seeking to own and possess wild creatures. And to control. The bracelet had tracked DJ’s movements, allowing Seren to hack through the Order security system looking for its signature on the planet.

The girl had been adaptable, her enthusiasm for revenge against the slicer a useful tool. She’d even steeled herself to meet with the Guavians to make them an offer they could not refuse, backed as it was with Order credits. Anything to get rid of a rival, anything to prove to Hux that she was on his side and the rightful woman to be in his bed.

But that was the crux of the problem of course, Sloane pondered, the girl’s open face looking up at hers for the next set of commands. The girl was loyal to Hux, to her beloved General.

And Sloane was not.

Seren’s face didn’t even had the chance to register pain as the blade slide in between her ribs, slicing through her heart. Her body slumped against Sloane’s, the breathing easing to a whisper in seconds. It was almost an embrace between mother and daughter, Sloane’s arms holding her up as the girl’s eyes dimmed.

Just like another time, another woman, motivated by a mistaken sense of devotion to a man unworthy of their affections and love, had died by her hand.

_ Adea. _

Protecting Armitage had never been the goal here, he had proved himself unworthy of power. Rae slowly let the body drop to the floor, the girl a small dark heap, blood beginning to pool from her chest. She had served her purpose, given Sloane the information she needed to make a move of her own.


	26. Chapter 26

There was nothing inside him, just a  blank vacuum devoid of thought and feeling. Hux visualised it stretching out in front of his eyes, beyond Ren to the emptiness behind. Nothing but smooth nothingness and silence. The touch to his cheek did not register through it, Hux casting his mind from his body, thoughts caged and boxed, so hidden they felt they could never return.

“Who do you belong to?” Ren’s voice was a whisper, Hux’s consciousness fighting up and through, mouth working only enough to give the response that he knew was required. The lie forming on his lips.

“You,” the voice didn’t sound like his, coming from a corner of the room. Outside, not from within.

“Wine. Shall we have wine Supreme Leader? A toast. To new beginnings.” He'd practiced the words on the way into the chambers so they came easily. Hux’s lips formed into a slight smile as Ren pulled his hand away and dipped his head in agreement.

Hux kept his steps calm and slow as he moved to the great table in the centre of the room, laid with food and wine for a meal they were unlikely ever to eat no matter how the evening progressed

He removed his gloves, feeling Ren’s gaze on him as his slim fingers clasped the bottle and poured two glasses. His grip was steady, hands still as the wine flowed.

Ren took one from him, glasses clinking as they toasted, the red flute looking almost impossibily delicate in his thick fingers.

“Snoke once told me you wished to be Grand Marshall. Is that true?” Ren took a deep gulp of the dark liquid, Hux noting that the unaccustomed sweetness brought a grimace to his face.

Hux nodded, sipping slowly. “It is true that it is something I would ….welcome.” his head dipping with the admission.

“If you are to be by my side and united with me, it would be a fitting title to reflect your station. Although perhaps we may think of something else in time.” Kylo took another sip and held Hux's gaze, eyes dark with promise.

“I....” Hux faltered, a curt nod the only reflection of his joy at the words. All he had aspired to previously would be his, at the granting of his new Leader.

Hux's calm seemed to disconcert Ren, the man looking unsure of himself, wrong-footed as he awkwardly looked for a place to deposit the now empty glass.

“Shall I get you some more?”Hux found the words flowing more easily now, the role he was playing of dutiful General settling like a cloak around him. He could only blank his mind for so long, he had to come back into himself now, and worry about the cost later.

“Of course.”

“No, maybe after…” Ren’s words tailed off with the realisation of what he had said. There would be an after. Hux swallowed, feeling the import of the words hit him like a blow.

He placed his glass down, most of it untouched, and stood in front of Ren, the two men almost within touching distance, the awkwardness between them almost a third person in the room. This was a dance where neither of them knew the steps.

“Perhaps, you should remove your coat, General.” Ren’s words thick in his mouth, and Hux did as he was bid, slowly and carefully tossing the garment on a nearby chair.

“And now, perhaps you?” Hux’s face almost coy, Ren barking out a tense laugh in response. He tugged off his black leather jacket, letting it fall at his feet.

The first step had to be taken, the first move made.

Hux reached out to the younger man and cupped his chin, pulling his gaze to his. He looked so young, dark curls messy, scar pale and deep into his cheek. So young, and so unsure, but eyes bright with need and want. Hux almost laughed at the sight of him. This boy who had only sought to hurt and ridicule him, now brought to heel but a need to be loved.

Only weeks ago, Hux would have laughed at the man's weakness, if he’d not felt it himself. The need to be wanted and desired. Loved for who you were. It was a drug, almost instinctual, beyond logic. The boy had sought Rey and she had denied him, bringing her downfall. And now Ren had come him, as D'ara had predicted.

Hux searched for the right words, the starting point.

“I am your General,” and with softness brought his lips down onto Ren’s, feeling the boy lean into the kiss. His response was immediate, a groan leaving his mouth as he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around the slighter figure of Hux.

They pulled apart breathless, Ren’s eyes darkened with an awakened lust, face befuddled.

He went to speak as Hux pulled him close again, smile forming as his lips brushed against Ren’s ear and whispered the words he'd always wanted to say.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rey’s eyes fluttered open, and then closed, the girl drawn back down into deep slumber. This was taking too long, DJ’s entire body tensed as she watched the main door of the chamber, waiting any second for troopers to storm through. Opan had organised the security details. Nothing that would show up as unusual but giving her this chance of entry and escape.

She could take no chances, she needed to get them both out. Now, before all hell broke loose.

“Where...who are you?” the girl’s voice cracking from lack of water, her eyes gazed as she saw DJ's face close to hers. Rey's tongue tentatively licked over her bottom lip her face and registered the sting of pain, “are you with the Resistance? Have we met before? Where’s Finn?” the words faded off as Rey began slipping back into sleep, speech almost too much for her.

DJ ignored the questions, there was no time and Rey wouldn't like the answers.

“We need to get you out of here, but I’m going to need your help. Can you hear me?”

The eyelids flickered open again, dark eyes dimmed but their light brightening as Rey gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I just need some more time,” Rey whispered, trying to raise her head, eyes searching the room around them. DJ leant back onto her knees, holding in the urge to hiss that time was really one thing they did not have at this moment. DJ could feel the Force around them flickering like candle light in a breeze. It was strong in Rey, DJ feeling it eddy around her, dragging her with it.

Rey swallowed again, her mind slowly focusing.

“We split up. Poe, thought it would be safer that way. Everywhere we went, the Order seemed to know we were coming,” the words little more than a harsh croak, coming with difficulty, “So, General Organa and I, we split off. To keep Leia safe.” Rey’s voice broke again, the words catching. There would have been tears now, if she’d had the moisture and energy to shed them.

“But he found us. On Tatooine. I thought at the start that he’d come to talk, to say sorry…”

“To his mother?” Rey’s eyes opened wide, surprised by DJ's knowledge.

The girl nodded, rolling her shoulders against the restraints, pain beginning to register through her body as the antidote lessened the drug’s deadening grasp.

“But, he wanted me, wanted me to join him, surrender myself to him and when I wouldn’t, Leia tried to make him stop…”

Rey’s head dropped forward, the sound of dry sobs coming from her. Her arms had to take more of her weight once again, the pain wrought across her down turned face.

“The darkness… I thought with Snoke dead that he would be free but it’s overwhelmed him… I couldn’t find a way through to him, to Ben…”

There was nothing DJ could say to that, nothing but try and hold her up until the girl’s cries faded. Nothing but wait for Rey's strength to return, while every second she braced against the sound of their discovery.

Now was not the time for sympathy or empathy for the girl, DJ reminded herself, this girl was merely a means to an end.

 

“Get away from her”

Twisting she cursed her stupidity for not checked the rear entrance. Two men rushed the room, blasters drawn and pointed at her, one of them instantly recognisable. Finn, the ex-trooper’s face twisted with hate and a companion, both dressed in the dull browns of the Resistance. DJ eased away from Rey, her hands held up in surrender.

A complication, unseen and unscripted; Her mind spinning through the ramifications.

“I’m trying to help her, dumbass” eye's never leaving Finn's, as she nodded at the slumped Rey, still too weak to hold her own body up, arms pulled by the restraints.

Finn pushed her roughly aside, throwing himself down to the girl as Rey began to stir, concern and fear across his face.

DJ turned to stare at his companion, his weapon trained on her, dark eyes wary but curious.

“Who are you?” the dark haired Rebel eyed her with warmer interest than his blaster implied, taking in the Order uniform and unbound hair.

“This is the bitch who betrayed us on the Supremacy, DJ. The one that sold us out to the First Order” hissed Finn, DJ watching the appreciative grin began to fade.

 

DJ shrugged, small smirk toying at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah, ok, I apologise that I was exactly who I said I was. So, have you come here to just call me names or are you here to help your friend?” she drawled, “she was drugged, I’ve just given her the antidote. Give her another few minutes.”

“I thought you would be dead by now” Finn snorted as he cupping Rey's face gently.

“Rey, can you hear me? Rey, Maker, what did they do to you?”. Rey's groaned in response.

Anger flared then, Finn turning blaster aimed at DJ’s heart, his expression giving no doubt he would use it in an instant if needed.

“You need to get her out now. How do we get this kriffing things off her, I've never seen any binder like these before” his desperation clear and raw in his voice.

“I can’t, you can't. They are something Ren developed I think. Rey is going to have to use the Force to break the bonds. It’s the only way”

Finn glared at her in disbelief and hate but DJ was calm.

“Ren’s Force bound the chain, it’s too strong to break any other way”

“How do you know this?”

There were two answers, but she went for the safest.

“He told Hux yesterday when he arrived her with her”

Finn’s face registered confusion and then settled into a mask of loathing. He went to speak, but his attention snapped back to his friend as she pulled against the chains, finally awake again.

“Finn? Poe?” she whispered, her eyes struggling to focus on the dim outlines of her friends.

“We’re here Rey, it’s ok, we’ll get you out. You’re safe now” DJ was almost forgotten as both men crowded around her, trying to hold her up, Poe testing the restraints, looking for a way to free his friend.

“Touching reunion, but you’re not going to get her free that way,” DJ sighed, moving into Rey's eyeline.

“Rey, break the chains. I know you feel weak, and it’s going to hurt, but you need to get free,” DJ’s patience was running out, words tumbling out too freely.

“Wait, why are you here? Why are you even helping her? She needs to be free, or you need her free? What the fuck does that mean?” Finn’s dark eyes snapped back to her.

DJ tucked a strand hair behind her ear, the realisation that Force seemed to keen to fuck up any of the plans she tried to make bringing an ironic twist to her lips.

This should have been so simple, well, as simple as plotting the death of the head of the First Order and blaming it on Rebel traitors could have been. She eyed the two new complications, the spinning cogs in her mind finally settling onto a strategy.

“It means that if Hux fails to kill the Supreme Leader, then your beloved Ren going to come after me and the rest of the First Order, and then Rey and then you lot. So I’d rather that didn’t happen. Rey can keep me safe. Let's call her my little insurance policy.”

“Ben, Hux is going to kill Ben?” Rey’s eyes flared, the girl suddenly strengthened by rising panic, “But, I don’t understand…. Why…Hux is loyal to the Order, loyal to his Leader...” Rey face falling as DJ confirmed her worst fears. Ren, Ben, may have done this to her, but the thought of him being betrayed was still too much for her.

Rey motioned with her head for them to move away from her, to give her the space she would need.

DJ and the others stood back, Rey left in the middle of the box, eyes shut again, but this time with determination and purpose.

As the Force hit its power almost took DJ’s breath away, her eyes closing against the rip and pull she felt around her, centring on the small ragged girl at its core. Light flickered around Rey, the chains sparking with red fire as they cracked open and then fell with a metallic crash into the floor. Rey’s body slumped to the floor, Finn and Poe struggling to catch her as she crumpled.

“We’ve got to go. I can help you find him, if you want...” DJ catching Rey's nod as she turned to leave. DJ trying to seek and find any sign she wasn’t too late with her mind.

Arms either side of Rey, Finn stopped, his eyes fixed on her as he finally worked out why she was there.

“What the…? You’re working with Hux, I thought…” he swung his pistol back to her, furious, “This is about Hux? I don’t understand, why do you care if Hux lives or dies? Last time I saw him he was dragging you away in chains…” he saidm dumbfounded.

“I made a bargain, a deal…” DJ muttered, twisting away to go, only to find her steps arrested by a ring of Force echoing through her. It could only be one thing, she'd felt it once or twice before, and had done the same to others.

“Get the fuck out of my head” DJ snarled, feeling Rey’s presence in her mind, the Force link hardening to a solid bond she couldn't throw off.

“No, you didn’t” the girl whispered, her tone at first uncertain and then wondering. DJ flung her a look of hate to find only understanding and surprise in the Force as it swirled around her. Rey, even almost broken and worn, was not to be easily fooled.

“You know the way of the Force, like your father, but you have turned away from the Light. But there is love within you, that’s why you are here… but it’s for a man… for …”

“I told you, get out of my head” DJ’s hand found the blade tucked into the back of her trousers and she brandished it at the girl. It was a pointless move, in so many ways. Illogical. But it was the only visible way to defend herself, her mind already trying and failing to free itself from the weight of Rey’s consciousness burrowing into hers.

“This isn’t about the Order, or a deal. You love him, and yet there is fear there… ” Rey said, her gaze soft. There was pity there, and understanding. The room echoed with harsh laughter, Finn pulling up his blaster towards DJ, hand shaking with bitter amusement.

“Love? She loves? This bitch doesn't love anyone but herself and credits.” he sneered.

DJ’d had enough, Rey could have her mind, there was nothing left to hide it seemed. With a swipe of her hand the blaster flew from his grasp to land across the room, Finn and Poe open mouthed.

“Fuck you.”

  
  
  


 


	27. Chapter 27

“I have always despised your weakness” Hux  whispered, his breath warm against Kylo’s.

A sharp sting settled into a bright bloom of agony as a blade slipped in between his ribs. He pulled his head away from Hux's, eyes wide with incomprehension. He'd not felt the man's intent, no warning from the Force had kept him safe.

Ren stumbled as Hux’s arm pushed against his chest, sending Ren grabbing for the arm of a chair, the furniture toppling as he fell.

“I don't...” Kylo tried to shake a numbness from his head. The words wouldn't come, his mind muddy and confused. Fist clenched in anger he tried to push the Force out to the ginger man sneering down above him, but nothing happened. It had abandoned him, forsaking him now when he needed its protection the most. He’d been cut off from its energy, a fog had descended that he could not break through. Realisation sliced through him his eyes dark with anger and disbelief. How could Hux have known?

“You've...” 

“Drugged you? Yes Ren, I have. Ah, the irony that what you used on the scavenger is exactly what I have used to take your life as well. Sometimes the galaxy moves in mysterious ways don't you think?” Kylo watched Hux straighten his shirt with one pale hand, the other still clasping a bloody blade. Hux’s green eyes widening as he looked down to the blade he held, as if he was surprised by its presence. Maybe he was? Shocked he’d finally had the nerve to act on a hatred Ren had hoped he could turn to something else. 

The pulse of his heart echoed in his ears as his hand came back wet and scarlet from his chest. His life blood, draining away even as the foolishness of his desires mocked him. 

“But...” the words thick in his mouth. Hux, weak Hux, had engineered and planned this, hidden this from him. Blacked his mind out and concealed such hate. The very idea of his deception and rebellion brought a surge of energy to Ren, pushing himself up with an arm to , struggle to his feet. But he fell back, his arm buckling with his weight. Hiis body suddenly weak and frail. This was not from the wound alone.

“According to D'ara, the more you struggle the longer the poison will take to work, and the more painful it will be. I'd rather like to see that. But either way you will die. She's quite the clever one I found out, not just the whore you assumed. Made me a nice little concoction. Something she’d learned from the Guardians to dampen the Force, and Lexonite to kill. She gave me the antidote of course,  so that I wouldn't suffer the same fate even as I drank the wine. So not just a whore,” Hux chuckled above him, even as Ren’s eyes began to shut, “That's always been your problem of course. Underestimating people. Underestimating me.”

The woman. The woman he'd asked Phasma to kill, she'd done this. Or course, he should have known. Hux alone would never have had the guts, but something in her eyes that day when he'd met her should have warned him to end her there and then. Scheming bitch with more balls than Hux would ever have. Ren snorted in contempt at his killer, grimacing as the pain took hold in his lungs, his breathing becoming shallower.

He should have known it would end this way. There was only ever going to be betrayal, never love. His path from the beginning had taken away all chance of that. His parents had betrayed him, allowed Snoke to crawl into his head and take him to the Dark Side, ripping out the very heart of him. At first he’d been frightened and lost, and then he had embraced it for the opportunity it was to become the most powerful man in the galaxy. Stronger than even Vader. And yet they had still sort of hold him back with their naive idea of love and light. Rey, so young, so certain he could be redeemed, but only on her terms. Like his parents, scared of hi power, of what he had become. Could have been.

_ Would never be. _

The agony had diffused into ache now, a coldness settling in his limbs. Tears formed, not for the life he was leaving behind, but for the loss of the Force. It had always been there, linking him to every living thing, the connection making him whole and with unimaginable power. And now, dying, only an enemy who despised him to keep watch. So alone. Images of Leia, broken at his feet. Han, falling into a bright pit of fire. And Rey, eyes wide with realisation that he had never been the man she'd thought. Never could be Ben again. They had sought to love him and perhaps in his way…. It didn’t matter now, he would fall into the darkness alone

 

The sharp metallic tang of blood hit DJ as she burst into Ren’s chambers. Hux sat, still and watching, blade wet and dripping hanging loosely from his hand, eyes fixed ahead. 

Ren, slumped against another chair, legs unmoving, soaked in the blood pooled around him, dark and glossy on the floor.

“Ben!”

Rey rushed past her, flinging herself down at his side, her hands brushing away the black tendrils of hair that had fallen across his face.

“Ben”

He didn't stir, his breathing shallow and rapid now, eyes not opening as Rey clasped his hand, stroking it, looking for any signs of hope.

“What did you do to him? How could this happen?” the words were barely understandable through her sobs. DJ stood unmoving,  taking in the two men. The man she’d helped murder, and the man she had done it for.

Poe and Finn stood almost awkwardly on the periphery of the scene, almost forgotten amongst it all. Looking lost and confused, Finn went to move, only Poe’s arm holding him back as they watched Rey cry for a man who would have destroyed them all.

The only sound in the room the bubbling, rattling of Ren’s breath, until there was silence. DJ rocked forward as a shift through the Force cracked around her like the echo of an explosion far away. The life had finally ebbed from him as Rey sat staring, broken and sobbing at his feet.

It was over, Ren was dead. For a second only, stillness. Before the calm before the storm unleashed.

And then the storm broke.

“We need to go now, Rey, we need to go, you need to leave him.” Finn urged, his hands wrapped around her shaking shoulders as he freed himself from his friend’s grasp. He dragged her to her feet, all her fight gone as she slumped against him.

“I don’t think so.” Hux had moved quietly and quickly, shaken out of his stupor finally, his blaster aimed directly on Rey. Before DJ could react, Poe was  behind her, his blaster hard against her neck, the barrel hard and cold against her skin.

“You drop your weapon, Hux, or she dies.” Poe threatened, his other arm twisting holding her close into him, a mockery of a lover’s embrace.

“Why would I care?” Hux sneered, eyes never leaving Rey and Finn even as DJ’s sought his for reassurance. 

This was it, the test. The moment she’d knew would come at some point. Just as Sloane had predicted, Hux would have to make a choice, and DJ breath caught as the realisation she had no idea what he would do slammed into her. Oh, so simple, to finally end the Resistance with Rey’s death. One blaster shot.  DJ could see the temptation playing over his face. The final victory could be his with one press of his finger. And the price he’d pay? As Sloane had promised, he’d choose power over love. His ambition over her; All she had to do was wait to know the truth.

She felt it then, the pull of Rey’s mind. Words crisp and clear as their gaze met across the room.

_ Come with me. You can’t redeem him, just as I couldn’t redeem Ben. _

_ Don’t trust him, don’t make my mistake. Leave.  _

Rey’s words echoed through DJ’s head as she send them out across the room. It was all pretend of course, even if Hux did not realise it. Rey could disarm him with a glance, stop the blaster bolt in flight. He was no threat, neither was Poe. Rey knew it and so did she, her eyes never leaving the others. 

If he fired, if he made the choice, then DJ would be free to leave, Hux showing himself for a man unworthy of her. As Ren had been of Rey. They both knew it. And yet, in seconds that seemed  to stretch to infinity, he did not pull the trigger.

“Drop your weapon Hux, or I will shoot her, I mean it, let us go.” Poe’s voice seemed distant, from a long way away away to DJ, her focus solely on Rey and the pleading in her eyes. She could feel the girl’s need now; She couldn’t save Ben so maybe she could turn DJ from the dark side, from making a choice she couldn’t possibly understand. 

DJ shifted her gaze finally to Hux’s as realisation hit. He had chosen her, his arm shaking as he lowered it down, his face white anger and impotence. The blaster clattered  to the floor. Rey, and Finn scrambling free as Poe threw DJ forward and out of his grasp.

_ Jedha. Got to Jedha, they won’t look there. _

She cast the words out through the Force, her eyes meeting Rey’s as the Rebels sought their escape. Rey pulling Finn now, his hesitation clear. DJ can feel it coming off him in waves now, he wanted revenge against Hux, the Order, them all. For everything that he had lost. And he felt like he was running from it again, from the chance to make them pay. Leaving Hux unharmed and alive. DJ could feel his mind revolt at the knowledge, and yet Rey pulled him away, tugging at his shirt until he stumbled in her wake and disappeared out the door.

DJ felt a moment of indecision. Stay with Hux, his eyes fixed on the corpse of Ren, or go and finish what needed to be done. What she’d always planned to do; Meeting Opan and tying up the loose ends. She had to go; There had to be a culprit, a scapegoat. The thought that came next was clear and hard as a knife blade.  _ That scapegoat could not be Rey. _

 

She followed, running through the empty corridors, up stairs to the upper levels. sounds of booted footsteps coming from below, but never seen. Opan’s second phase had started, tightening a noose around the Palace. An image of the Palace schematics flitted through her head. If they had come in a ship, they could have landed on one of the large open balconies, built for vessels for the most important visitors to the old Emperor. It would be less guarded than the main entrance and decks. It was what she would have done, and the Rebel’s were no fools. Turning away from the main entrance she bounded up the stairs to the upper garden level.

Ahead, through the doors, curtains blowing in the night breeze, the dark shape of an old freighter ship, landing ramp open as three figures ran towards it.

 

DJ’s response was instinctual, stop, and brace her arm as she brought her blaster up to aim. She made a choice, her aim moving from one to the other until she pressed the trigger and a figure ahead stumbled, staggering as the blast took him in the back. There was no guilt, no feeling at all as she watched Rey and Finn trying to pull  Poe crumbled, DJ continuing to fire shots aimed to miss but enough to force them to leave him. The distance was too great, she knew, for them to be able to drag his body onto the ship. And DJ needed a body.

She watched as Finn dragged Rey away as troopers swarmed through the door behind DJ, leaving her awash in white as they pounded after the two fugitives.

A split second decision based on a conversation that seemed years ago now, in another world. Hux’s voice tight with anger as he spoke of the pilot Poe Dameron who had taken down a dreadnought, and mocked his name. He would be pleased by the choice she had made, and not question why she’d not aimed for the girl.

DJ watched the ship fire into space, and flit into hyperspace, aware of the silent figure of Opan at her side.

“It’s over,” he said quietly, his eyes not meeting hers.

But he was wrong, she knew, it would never be over. It was just a beginning.

 

She found him, still in the chamber, standing before Ren’s body, already cooling in the evening air, his blood, dark and vicious on the floor beneath his corpse. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, he was not her concern - only the man stood above the body like a victor. Room awash with panicked Order security, she slipped in and stood on the outskirts, observing the calm he directed the storm. Sloane rushed in, the small woman grabbing his arm with uncharacteristic emotion, the hand placed only for a second on Hux’s arm, before being withdrawn.

 

“Armitage are you alright, I came as soon as I heard. An attack? In the Palace, and for the Supreme Leader to have been…” DJ watched as the Admiral’s eyes rested on his slumped form for only a second before returning to Hux, “You could have been killed. That Rebel scum, I can’t believe…And Rey freed in the attack as well... Were any caught?” Her voice, even over the noise of stormtroopers in the room, was audible. Concerned and angry, yes, but something undefined that caught DJ’s attention, her instincts catching a slight misstep in the tone.

Opan strode through the door to her side, “The Rebel Leader Poe  Dameron was shot as they escaped, General. Admiral” he nodded in turn to Hux and Sloane, his eyes finding DJ’s for the merest of seconds as he continued into the room and drew level to his leader. As Hux’s gaze lifted to catch the Captain’s he found hers. Nothing on his impassive expression faltered, but as she slipped out the room, all she could see was the exaltation in bright waves around her in the Force. He had at last become the man he’d always wished to be.


	28. Chapter 28

“Drink?” DJ waited for an answer that didn't come, Hux’s head bent over a datapad that hadn't left his hands for the last few hours. Ren was dead, body removed quietly without ceremony to be disposed of somewhere on Coruscant. 

Reports had gone out across the galaxy, the Resistance accused of the horrific crime and investigations already undercovering the treason that had made the attack possible.  There was nothing for DJ to do now, she’d done her part. All she could do was drink and think. And she really didn't want to think.

Sleep would have been an impossibility, so DJ had showered, and drunk, but mostly paced, along the long glass panes of windows looking out across the city planet. And waited for him to come back, not allowing herself to remember Rey’s dark eyes on her as Hux had dropped his gun and the thoughts that had plagued her ever since. 

Hux still hadn’t replied, so she poured him one anyway, placing it in his hand and watched him down it without looking at her, passing her the back the empty glass. Another time she might have minded his lack of attention, but not tonight. Not with the dark bruises circling his eyes, skin taunt and pale. Last time she’d seen him like this had been in the Supremacy hangar - running on adrenaline and anger.

“It’s late, you’re exhausted, let’s go to bed”, which was half the story. Her eyes ached, skin gritty with tiredness and stress from the last few days.

“What? I need… there is so much to do…” Hux tapped furiously, his swearing out of character as something went wrong, his eyes catching her for only a second before they returned to his work.

His greatcoat still covered his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk. Almost like a man she didn't know, a stranger in the place of the man she'd held and fucked the last months before all of this. There was a distance between them now, the thought appearing and then quickly banished leaving a pang of sadness in its wake. But she would not think of that now. 

“Let me help somehow,” she moved behind him, slipping the heavy fabric off, tossing it with a distinct lack of neatness of the floor. PD 34 would tut, she didn’t give a damn.

DJ’s strong fingers stroked over the tight cords of his shoulders, a groan of pleasure escaping unbidden from his lips, as her fingertips worked out a knot. Lips on his neck, she took in the smell of him; spice and something of him, a little sharp but pleasant. A reminder of the long hours he’d spent commanding his Order.

“Spin now,” she ordered, laughing at his open mouth of shock at her tone. That had finally got his attention - he wasn’t used to being told what to do. The frown on his face faded as he caught the glint in her eyes.

“Drop the datapad, and spin the chair.” There was a pause and then he obeyed, his eyebrow raised as she knelt at his feet, smiling up demurely.

“Shall I take your boots off?”

There was a current in the air now, something had shifted in the room. The distance between them filled now with promise. Hux swallowed deeply as she laid a hand on the polished leather.

“That would be ...excellent” he murmured, as she efficiently pulled his boots clear of his feet, casting them aside. It was a mundane task, simple, but now charged with something more, DJ making sure his socked feet were placed in her lap, tucked close into her. Hux’s gaze seemed locked on his own feet, seeing them for the first time.

“Socks?” she asked, a simple, innocent question that left Hux nodding silently in response.

She peeled off one, and then the other, his feet cool and pale under her touch. It shouldn’t have been erotic, but DJ could already feel heat building in her core, heightening by the catch of his breath as she placed his feet either side of her,  kneeling between his legs.

DJ placed her hands on his knees, leaning forward and stretching upwards to kiss him, his datapad abandoned now on the desk, its faint plaintive beeps going unheeded.

One hand slid upwards, finally grazing against the hard bulge in his trousers, his breath hitching as she palmed him through the cloth.

“D’ara,” her name falling from her lips like a sigh.

“I told you i wanted to kneel before you. I want to taste you, Emperor” she purred, breaking their kiss,  knowing her words would drive him almost as mad as her touch, “please.”

His answer was never in doubt, Hux arching his back a little, pushing into her hand with his eagerness as she lowered back down, fingers deftly undoing his belt and zipper.

DJ had never been the submissive type, but this wasn’t about being dominated, it was something different - motivated by an need that DJ didn’t fully understand - to watch him relax and unravel from her attentions, give him comfort and peace. And her own need to connect to him again.

As her mouth curled around the head of his cock, his groan made everything, for a moment at least, make sense.

  
  


He couldn’t allow himself to think, still too wired and running on simple exhaustion. He could only permit himself to feel. So close, the delicious feel of her hot mouth around him was driving him to brink, but he wanted to draw out the delight in possessing her.

He pulled DJ up to his lap so she straddled him, his hands slide down her arms, the trail of his leather clad fingertips leaving goosebumps on her flesh. Hux pulled her hips into him so she could feel his arousal, his hand slipping down, concertinaing the fabric of her dress until his glove slipped under to the cleft between her thighs. She was naked beneath, the realisation hardening his cock past the point  he would have thought possible. His other hand slid over her nipple, palming it through the fabric.

Even through the leather he could feel the heat and wetness soaking his fingers as he plunged a digit deep inside her. Revelling in her moans of pleasure, he pulled her close to him. D’ara sank her head against his shoulder, wrapping  her arms around his neck.

 

This is what he needed, to be taken out of himself, losing himself in her, as she moved  and impaled herself on his length.

Reveling in a new sort of power. Intoxicating, drawing pleasure out of her body, making her moan as his hips rose to meet her, so tight and hot around him, drowning out all conscious thought but need and desire. Neither lasted long, coming together as Hux spilt deep inside her.

Later, when sleep evaded then, he lost himself in her again, bodies curved into each other on the black silk of his bed.

“You should sleep,” DJ whispered with no conviction as she pressed herself back against the hard ridge of him.

“How can I sleep when I want to do is be inside you?” His hand slid down the plain of her stomach to the cleft between her legs, fingers delving deeper as she arched against him.

“All of this is like a dream,”  the words whispered into her hair. “If I wake up, I’ll find it was just a dream. Ren here and that you’ll be gone. Like last time. Leaving me alone...” his voice cracked, but her only reply was a whimper of pleasure as he entered her, sliding into her slick wetness, his fingers toying with her clit.

Hux bit her shoulder softly as she rhythmically ground herself into him, losing himself in his desperate need.

“Please....”she begged as she clenched around him and he felt her come, both of them riding through waves of ecstasy. He felt pride then, in pleasing her.

She’d snuggled in closer to him again, the soft curves of her body pressed against the hard pale angles of his. Her breathing slowly changed as sleep claimed her. For the first time he could remember he knew sleep would come easily, but he kept himself awake so he could revel in this moment – his success. He was Supreme Leader, and she was his. Snoke would have ripped the skin off her bones and made him watch as punishment; Ren would have done the same  to claim Hux as his own.

He'd spent his life seeking power, and now he had it. And with a woman like D'ara in his bed, all his unspoken dreams had been finally realised, a tight smile curling his lips as sleep finally claimed him.


	29. Chapter 29

There would be no mercy, no leniency. Hux was a man of action and resolve, morning spent barking orders at Opan and his other senior officers. Admirals and Captains of the other attendant ships trailing into his quarters one after another, always flanked by silent troopers. 

Word of the Rebel conspiracy had blasted through the fleet and the Order hierarchy at light speed. High ranking officers of the Order had conspired to kill the new Supreme Leader and General Hux. Only Hux’s quick thinking had prevented his own death at their hands. Kylo Ren had not been so fortunate, the man obviously weaker than he looked against an attack by a scavenger girl. 

But while the Supreme Leader had lost his life, Hux had prevented the loss of many others, preventing the destruction of the Imperial Palace and a number of key vessels in the fleet. Kylo had not been the only target that night, a series of explosive charges had been found peppered around the massive building and even in the engine holds of three star destroyers. 

This was no isolated attack by a handful of Rebel scum. 

There were traitors amongst them, even after the ringleaders had been quickly caught and executed. There was no need for trials, of course, when the sentence was already a forgone conclusion. Captain Peavey had been the first to die, insolent to the last, not even bothering to proclaim his innocence. His friend Yago had fallen next.

There would be more, silent pale men and women waiting for an audience. Shrunken in their starched uniforms, each knowing that their fate was already sealed. Opan and DJ had been through, weaving faked strands of treachery through the records of Order officers and commanders with enough evidence to damn them all. It was now just a matter of choosing who would be allowed to live. By the end of the long list, Opan barely bothered to conceal his pleasure at finally settling long held grudges.

DJ’s head ached, her role in the proceedings to seek out those who truly were disloyal to Hux. The effort of brushing across thoughts of First Order officers, minds crystallised solid by panic and fear, was taking its toll. In some of those they had left as innocent, though, hate and rebellion lurked. Even regret that they had not had the guts to move against Ren and Hux like their comrade.  Regardless of the outcome the now faced. These were the ones where she caught Hux's eyes and he had them dragged away and gone.

A pause in the proceedings and they found themselves alone for a moment. Again there was an awkwardness between them, even after the pleasure of the night before. A silence from exhaustion and the grimness of the task DJ, told herself. Nothing else.

“It’s almost over, for today. Only one more.” Hux poured himself another glass of whiskey as she watched, stroking Millicent absentmindedly as he walked past back to his chair that was looking more and more like a throne as the hours passed.

She should have realised, of course, that there would be others that would have to pay for their designs.

As the troopers dragged him in, she almost didn’t recognise the Grand Vizier, his rich garb ripped and stained with dark red patches. His previous pride now replaced with terror and alarm, eyes crusted with dried tears of agony. DJ started in recognition, body tensing as she sat on the sofa beside the sleeping warm form of the cat.

“Zarander, do you have any explanation for you and your Council’s lack of care over our Grand Leader? Allowing the Palace to be infiltrated by Rebel scum?” Hux didn’t need to raise the volume of his voice to send Zarander into new bouts of sobbing.

“General… I had no idea.. we would never have permitted!” the man’s voice a harsh broken whisper as the Vizier dropped his gaze to the floor. He could not bring himself to look up, too frightened to see what was on Hux’s face, his mask of disinterest and scorn.

“And yet you did. The Supreme Leader is dead, the leader of the Rebels allowed to flee.” DJ watched Hux’s face carefully as he said those last few words. They had not spoken of it, how Rey had managed to evade her, even as Poe had not. For now, it was was not a topic for discussion. For now.

“You know punishment that must be exacted. On you, and the Council. I suggest you face it like a man. You and you line will be executed for allowing Resistance to infiltrate and kill Ren.”

“I…. Please, not my family, they are innocent, they had nothing to do with anything, they are blameless in this. Please I beg you,” In panic Zarander looked around the room, catching sight of her, his eyes wide with pleading. He had no idea who she was of course, she’d been masked at the arrival, but she was there and he needed anyone that could help. “Please, my Lady, I am begging you, not my family, not my daughter.”

The girl’s face, small, delicate and trusting, DJ felt the memory like a blow. Her hands wrapped around the box of sweets given by Hux, the thought twisted her stomach. This man would die for a crime he had not committed, that was unavoidable perhaps. But the girl, her mother even? They were innocent; for them to pay was a step too far.

“You are in no position to make demands. The sentences will be carried out tomorrow morning in the grand square, as an example to all, in this system and all others. The First Order does not tolerate rebellion. It will not tolerate traitors. Take him away.”

Feeling Zarander’s eyes still on her as he was dragged out crying, DJ couldn’t bring herself to look at him as he left. There was an ache, unfamiliar and dull, dragging at her. Something like guilt. Shame even. 

“I….” she started, keeping her attention on Millicent, stroking the side of her cheeks, feeling the deep purr reverberating through her fingers.

“I didn’t think.” It was a simple admission. She hadn’t thought of what would happen, so focused on Hux. On winning.

“According to First Order standard protocol all the Council members would be executed.

And their families.” Hux stood, eying her as he strode to a side table and poured himself another drink, offering her one which she declined. She was in no mood to drink, her throat tight.

He shrugged, running a hand through his red hair. He was tired, they both were. Sleep had not come easily even after their release.

“D’ara, only a child doesn't realise their actions have consequences,” sitting back down as she stared at him, eyes narrowed.

“Compassion is a weakness, it cannot be shown to one’s enemies. But perhaps a greater weakness is not facing up to the costs of one’s own actions.” He sniffed, “But haven't you left others to pay for your crimes? Just this time you are here to witness it?”

Sometimes, thought DJ, it was hard to tell if he was just unthinking or a complete bastard. She hadn’t noticed that before.

“I knew there was going to be a cost, of course I did, but…”

“What? Just not to the innocent?” he sneered, glorying in the chance to teach, “Oh there is always a cost. Opan showed me your files, the things you have done, the people who have been left to pay. You are dripping in blood. You reek of it. Your convenient morality. Choosing nothing so you can never be on the losing side, never take the blame.” He paused, and took a long sip.

“But you have chosen a side, the winning side. That’s perhaps why we are so well suited, we are both survivors. And we do whatever it takes to survive. The difference is, my actions have been for a greater cause and yours… well, now you are part of that cause too.”

“I’m not part of the Order. I did this for you, and you only.” DJs voice was quiet, and the words honest.

“Oh, still with the 'Don’t Join' rubbish I see. Still lying to yourself about being on no one's side? Is that what you still tell yourself?” he chuckled, “the moment you climbed into my bed, you became part of the Order. There is no separation between me and the First Order that I serve. I am the Order. All of it, for the Order.”

“No, for you!”

“You have always had a passing relationship with the truth D’ara. Look at where you are, what you are wearing, whose bed you sleep in. You are as much part of the First Order as I am. There is no point where the Order stops and I start, we are one. If you are with me, you are part of it. By being with me you have chosen a side, like it or not. It’s time you realised it”

DJ had no idea how to respond, it was true. The secret she had hidden from herself, had felt while on Coruscant. It had taken her so little to feel part of something, Hux and yet beyond him. The lies she had tried to keep telling herself, that she was simply as interloper, but it had ceased to be true. She had aligned herself to him and his cause. She deserved Finn’s hate, she wasn’t in it for the money, she’d made a mockery of her so-called code. For a man? For security? And others were going to pay the price. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Oh, she loved him, but it was tinged with a bitterness that she struggled to swallow down.

“But, if you wish. I will make an exception in this case. His family will go into exile, but they will live. For you.” Hux’s gaze couldn’t hold hers as she looked up, tears welling quickly. It was only a little, but for now, it seemed enough.

 


	30. Chapter 30

The death of Ren had been considered an act of treason by the First Order. Anyone thought to be associated with the Rebels lived in fear of their lives. Although the fall of the Coruscant Council had been swift and calculated, few across the galaxy had viewed General Hux’s rise to power to be anything less than an opportunity to finally deal with a First Order leader who could optimistically at least, be called ‘one of them’. True, Hux had to be approached with due respect, but to his credit, he had no ability to Force choke unsuspecting visitors.

For the moment he had retained the stark black of his General’s uniform, still considering whether white, black or something daring in red would suit him better when he was crowned as Emperor. The title had, he’d decided the day after the unfortunate assassination, a much better ring to it than ‘Supreme Leader’.

Ranks culled, his remaining Order elite had merely bowed in agreement at the change in title. And while Hux may have sneered at Ren’s pretensions at holding the ceremony in Palatine’s old lodgings, Emperor Hux-elect had no such qualms.

Location of forthcoming coronation confirmed, the great, and the hoping to be great, across the galaxy had swarmed. A sea of subjects seeking to be the first to congratulate the new leader of the First Order and show their unending loyalty and newly discovered devotion. The powerful backers of the Order, who had bank rolled the mass armament programme, had always stayed in the shadow. Deals brokered through layers of shell companies and corporate banks located in distant systems, they were now finally stepping out into the light to claim Hux as the leader they had been waiting to support. And they had not come alone.

The palatial chambers hummed with the lowered voices of hundreds of little groups of representatives from the richest to poorest of systems - human and alien. So varied in so many respects, except united in one - each contained at least one female, dressed in the sheerist of fabrics and attire. Mostly human, some Twi’lek or other humanoid species. All with their heavily painted eyes set on the tall lean figure of the General sat on the dias at the head of the room.

Hux looked out across the crowded chamber and permitted himself a small smile of self congratulation. It had been a long and hard road, but he had risen to the heights for which he knew he had always been destined. He imagined his father, his bloated pale features twisting with jealousy at his son’s rise to pre-eminence.  So many of his father’s generation and other colleagues had fallen by the wayside - Brendol, Phasma, Peavey and of course Ren. All blinded by a misguided faith in their ability to prevail over a man they had failed to take true measure.

And this was his reward.

Sloane was never far away, seemingly always on the edge of his vision. D’ara had kept her distance, in his bed when he finally returned at the end of the long days, but staying in the background. His body stirred at the image of her in the beautiful dresses he’d provided only worn, briefly, in the privacy of his apartments.

The Order had suffered a minor defeat or two, true. The Order would move on though, he would rebuild the Supremacy, except this time it would be his flag-ship, built to his exacting specifications. The power, the dominance of military discipline, without the weakness of superstition. His Order would flourish and dominate.

And by his side? He scanned the room, not catching the females eyes, coldly assessing and discounting their value. The daughters and courtesans of every system’s noble house and ruling councils had been arrayed before him, all eager and desperate for his attention.

Perhaps Sloane had been right, to the victor the spoils. Now he could perhaps take the time to think about his future, his legacy, rather than simply focusing on the days, hours ahead.

Someone to share the pleasures, and stresses of power. Someone to be there at the end of the day, with a ready glass and smile, massaging his shoulders. Images from his old dream flashed and with surprise, he realised that since D’ara had entered his bed, the dream had ceased to haunt his sleep.

He could, he mused, even allow himself to be domesticated, commit to something permanent. D’ara had so far been his longest liaison; weeks long and with a regularity that had caught him unawares. Of course, their union had begun in unusual circumstances and was more than simply of a sexual nature. He owed her more than he was almost comfortable thinking about.

Commitment had always been so rebellent and contrary to his nature, he had never sought it. His father’s marriage had taught him to disdain the institution. No,he had not thought of it, in the of the last few weeks he had not allowed himself to think more than a few hours ahead. 

On Arkanis they had called a wife a help-meet, someone to take the burden of Imperial life. Play the role of hostess, at events such as these, sitting by his arm, whispering little tit bits of gossip into his ear, giving him the names and small touches that would soften a difficult introduction or meeting. Dance the steps of politics at his side. The women arrayed in front of him had been born and bred for the role. From their earliest years schooled to be pleasing to a partner; submissive, undemanding in their needs or desires. Sitting so close to the seat of power would be enough for them and their families. But the question was, would D’ara fit into that role or would a woman like those in front be a more fitting mate for him?

  
  


It hadn’t been a conscious decision to spend her days like this, always on the move, stalking the streets and alleyways of Coruscant. The alternative had proved unbearable, although she knew Hux had wished it. The morning after Zarander, Hux’s forehead had crinkled as he'd regarded her in his chambers on the Finalizer.

“Perhaps it would be better if you were to remain on board? Safer for you, in any case… and the meetings, the work is dull,” he’d left, distracted and fussing about his uniform, so she hadn't argued. By the end of the first day Millicent had disappeared and not returned, PD 34 had decided to take an unplanned maintenance break and DJ had drunk her way through one of Hux's better whiskies.

After he left for Coruscant the next day, she’d followed his route to the main hangar bay, finding her access to a shuttle barred by an over-eager lieutenant, obsessed by her lack of paperwork. The fact she wasn’t First Order and not actually on his staff records confused him, brow furrowed with the concentration to understand how this situation could have been allowed to arise.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I have no record of you, therefore I can’t grant you…” he faltered, his eyes widening with fear, focused behind her.

“Lieutenant, I think you will find she has special status, accorded to her by the Emperor directly,” Captain Opan had mastered the art of being menacing without raising his voice much above a whisper. The young officers face paled at the tone, almost dragging her up the shuttle ramp to comply with Opan’s order.

“I thought Hux wished for you to stay on board,” Opan’s hand rested on her arm, touch light but enough to give his words weight as she began her ascent.

“I have a few things to do, and I don’t do sitting still very well,” her shrug was designed to appear casual, but without his consent, she would be a effective prisoner on the ship. 

Opan caught her gaze and held it. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed reassured.

“Fine, but keep the tracker on. I don’t want to end up in front of a firing squad because you go missing.” As usual, DJ couldn’t tell how serious he was, but probably deadly. She gave him a curt nod and left that day, and those that followed. Returning each evening, hours before Hux would appear.

 

At first, there had been a purpose. Bala had been given permission to hunt her down by his boss, and she wanted to know why. Hux, for all it pained her to admit it, was right in some ways, she had the power of the Order behind her now. If she wanted it.

A word in Opan’s ear and a legion of stormtroopers would have descended with chaos and mayhem and dragged anyone who looked askance away for questioning.

But she hadn’t told Opan about Bala, she hadn’t even told Hux. What could she have said that would have made a damn. He’d tried to kill her, he’d failed. End of story, except for memory of him crawling up her that would sometimes haunt her dreams, waking her in a cold sweat.

Finding out why it had happened seemed the more useful thing to do, who had paid off the Old Lady to turn away from a decade of a productive working relationship.

So no First Order advance attack, just a quiet word or two in the darkened corners of cantinas, a few credits in the right pockets. In the end, there was no final reveal, no name, but it was someone with enough resources and clout to lean so heavily on the right people that they had no option but to go after DJ. Not another crime syndicate, not Crimson Blade or the Kanjiklub, but someone bigger than that. It had to have been someone in the First Order, and she had her suspicions.

Hux’s days were filled with meetings and trials and plans that she had no interest in. They’d developed a routine where he’d wake and dress, patting her on the head as he left for the day, DJ left lying in his bed unable to sleep again. Waiting around had never been her strength; Too restless, too curious. On the Finalizer, and even went Hux decided to move to the old Emperor’s palace, DJ felt too exposed, too alone to stay there for long without him beside her. It was a weakness she almost didn’t understand, this need to be with him. Perhaps she could have tagged along, but pride stilled her voice before she could ask. So, she travelled alone and wandered. Thinking, drinking sometimes, alternatively not thinking of the future and thinking of nothing but. If Hux had known he’d probably have attached a security team to her, lurking in the background. So she didn’t tell him, and Opan didn’t either.

In the evenings she was back in his rooms as he bustled in, full of good spirits and exhausted. They barely talked. They’d share food and then she’d lose herself in him, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom, or simply straddling him as he sat, impaling herself on him. Joined in pleasure, and keeping away the questions and memories that shadowed her steps during the day.

Two weeks this pattern lasted. But one morning had been different, Opan waiting for her at the shuttle’s hull, face impassive as usual.

“Why don’t you come to the Palace today?” 

It seemed an innocuous suggestion, but Opan didn’t make random chit-chat.

“Any reason why?” DJ watched his expression for a telltale sign of any clue as to his reasons. 

The Captain’s gaze was as impenetrable as ever, “It might be useful for you to see the extent of the work that Hux is undertaking these days. The complexities. The decisions facing him. I will accompany you if you like.” With a curt nod, DJ followed him onto his private vessel and wondered what he was up to.

DJ had walked into the audience chambers, buffeted by the tide of people, organised into neat groups, their sole attention focused on the figure of Hux raised above them like some high priest.

He was barely visible, however, crowded around by Sloane and three young girls with older men at their sides. Fathers or pimps, DJ  sneered, it was always so hard to tell with women like these.

Only Sloane saw them approach, her eyes hardening as she marked DJ’s arrival. DJ was tempted to gracefully plant herself on Hux’s lap, mark the ownership of him that she had in private. She resisted the urge, settling only on glaring at the Admiral as she waited for Hux to to acknowledge her presence with a sort of grim curiosity as to how he would react. She had not spent any time with him out in public, as his acknowledged consort.  The coldness between them had grown, it was a truth that she could no longer hide from. They fucked, they even talked, but the distance between them grew. DJ could not forget the scorn in his words as he’d laughed at her naivety. He had seemed like the man she had been meant to find, but now, there was a question mark around the love she had previously thrown herself into body and soul. 

Hux turned from his conversation with the most portly of the three men, his lips turned up into a slight smile that was hard to read as his male companions looked at her with interest and the girls with something verging on undisguised dislike. His elegant hand raised in her direction. 

“This is my….” and a pause and a small laugh, as Hux found himself apparently unable to find the right word. 

“Security advisor, on contract,” DJ supplied with a tight smile at audience, not looking at Hux or Sloane, not wanting to see triumphant look she knew would be there in her eyes.

To Hux she was...what exactly? His in the bedroom and outside, a complication? An embarrassment?

So, that was how it was, her stomach tight as she made rapid excuses, catching Opan’s eyes as she strode out the grand chamber, her brow furrowed in confusion. He’d wanted her to know this, see this. But it made no sense. To hurt her? To show her how little she meant to Hux? 

Perhaps, although vindictiveness had never been his style, he was too direct for that. So, why? And now she knew, what next? 

 


	31. Chapter 31

The light in the grand room had faded as day had moved into early evening, lights flickering in holders along the walls. The tides of people in the audience chamber had waned somewhat, leaving only the inner circle of Hux and a few select companions bathed in light at the head of the room. During discussions with most of the delegations from the various systems, Hux has not bothered to hide his open disdain and disinterest. Opan’s eyes caught the charming smile his superior was bestowing on his young female companions, Sloane hovering at Hux’s side, her smile attempting something akin to friendly. 

His fingers tightened on the data pad clasped in his hands. Opan had spent his life priding himself on his ability to read people, to predict their reactions and responses, but somehow in this case he found himself unable to predict Hux’s reaction as he approached his chair. 

“Sir, I have an issue that needs your immediate attention. Regarding your security consultant.” Opan bowed his head low towards his Emperor, keeping his voice low as he noted Hux’s face registered at first annoyance at the interruption and then confusion. 

“What, I…. “ Hux’s brow concertinaed, as his eyes were drawn back to his laughing companion, “What security consultant? What are you talking about man? Why is this of my concern?” Hux’s irritation was clear, Opan swallowing hard as he continued.

“DJ. She is asking for clearance to leave in a shuttle. She’s at the main landing bay”

“I thought she was still here somewhere, but yes, fine, if she needs to go back the Finalizer, fine. Why are you bothering me with this?” 

Opan nodded slowly and turned to leave, mouth set in a hard line. The General had given him an order, and he would obey it. It was probably for the best.

He got a few steps away from the group, before he heard Hux’s voice call after him, his previous irritation replaced by a hesitant questioning. “Captain, she is going back to the Finalizer I take it?”

Opan paused, “No Sir, I do not believe that is her intention.” He didn’t turn even as he heard the sound of a chair roughly pushed back and then an arm grabbing his.

“What do you mean not her intention? Was is her intention then? Why did you let her get in a vessel in the first place?” 

“I understood she was free to do as she wished. As your security consultant.”

“Would you stop using that damned phrase, she’s not my …..” Hux’s mouth clamped shut, his face paling in the golden evening light. 

“Kriff. Opan, with me.” Hux pushed past him and down the stairs, the audience parting in hushed surprise. 

“But Sir, your guests?” Sloane had followed him and taken his arm, smile fixed and questioning even as Opan watched the Emperor shrug off her grip.

“Fuck my guests.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

The light in the grand room had faded as day had moved into early evening, lights flickering in holders along the walls. The tides of people in the audience chamber had waned somewhat, leaving only the inner circle of Hux and a few select companions bathed in light at the head of the room. During discussions with most of the delegations from the various systems, Hux has not bothered to hide his open disdain and disinterest. Opan’s eyes caught the charming smile his superior was bestowing on his young female companions, Sloane hovering at Hux’s side, her smile attempting something akin to friendly. 

His fingers tightened on the data pad he clasped. Opan had spent his life priding himself on his ability to read people, to predict their responses, but somehow in this case he found himself unable to predict Hux’s reaction as he approached his chair. 

Opan bowed his head low towards his Emperor, keeping his voice low as he noted Hux’s face registered annoyance at the interruption. 

“Sir, I have an issue that needs your immediate attention. Regarding your security consultant.” 

“What, I…. “ Hux’s brow concertinaed, as the words brought confusion as his eyes were drawn back to his laughing companion, “What security consultant? What are you talking about man? Why is this of my concern?” Hux’s irritation was clear, Opan swallowing hard as he continued.

“DJ. She is asking for clearance to leave in a shuttle. She’s at the main landing bay”

“I thought she was still here somewhere, but yes, fine, if she needs to go back the

fine. Why are you bothering me with this?” 

Opan nodded slowly and turned to leave, mouth set in a hard line. She was to be allowed to leave. The General had given him an order, and he would obey it. 

It was probably for the best.

He got a few steps away from the group, before Hux’s voice called after him, the irritation replaced by something new, and unexpected. A hesitant questioning. 

“Captain, she is going back to the

I take it?”

Opan paused, “No Sir, I do not believe that is her intention.” He didn’t turn as he heard the sound of a chair roughly pushed back and then felt an arm grabbing his.

“What do you mean not her intention? Was is her intention then? Why did you let her get in a vessel in the first place?” 

“I understood she was free to do as she wished. As your security consultant.”

“Would you stop using that damned phrase, she’s not my …..” Hux’s mouth clamped shut, his face paling in the golden evening light. 

“Kriff. Women. Opan, with me.” Hux pushed past him and down the stairs, the audience parting in hushed surprise. 

“But Sir, your guests?” Sloane was at Hux’s side, smile fixed and questioning even as Opan watched the Emperor shrug off her grip.

“Fuck my guests.” 

  
  


DJ’s fingertips tapped out an impatient beat on the ship’s console. It wasn’t as flash at the one she’d stolen from Canto Bight, but it would do. It would get her away and out of here, free to start again and disappear. If she could ever get off the kriffing ground.

It was taking too long, it was a standard to request to leave the planet of Coruscant and return to the Finalizer. No one at control should have any reason to think her plans were any different, and yet...

No, Hux wouldn’t even notice her absence, and he’d let her move with freedom so it couldn’t be due to his order. It didn’t matter, she just needed to get permission and then go. A few more minutes, just a bit more patience. Checking the diagnostics one more time, her fingers returned to their tapping, looking across the vast cityscape.

She wouldn’t miss this place. Just as well perhaps because she still hadn’t worked out who had wanted her dead. That was something yet to be discovered, but she would. Bala and his master may have turned on her, but she had other friends and contacts.

Perhaps not a good idea to come to the Resistance’s attention - if there was any of them left. And the First Order? Would Hux bother to hunt her down? Maybe his pride would make it mandatory. But she’d been on the run before, and there were plenty of systems where someone like her could hide. 

It was better this way.

She just needed to keep telling herself that. It was better this way. Better to be alone than vulnerable. She had never been the type to watch herself be cast into the shadows, to sit at home wondering where her man had gone. Never that kind of woman, broken by love not returned. 

No, she wouldn’t be that person, not now and not ever, she thought as she wiped away a tear that threatened to roll down her cheek. He’d made it clear that she had played her role and now was no longer required. Just the hired help. She’d go, and kriff Hux and all the Order. He’d got what he’d wanted, and her prize was pulling off the biggest coup the galaxy had ever seen. That she could take pride in, that she would remember.

Not his face, the lines of his cheekbones and messed up hair in the morning. The way he’d smile at her when he thought she wasn’t watching. The way he’d touch her, his fingertips trailing down her side as they had lain together. 

No, she would not let herself remember that. The face of Coruscant’s prime minister as he was dragged away, the face of Rey as she felt her pity. Smug Sloane and all the hangers on who would make Hux the proud and hard Emperor he was born to be. Those were the faces she needed to see in the dark when she couldn’t sleep somewhere at the end of the galaxy.

“What the kriff?” 

Her thoughts fractured by a hammering on the vessel’s door, the sound revertiating through the small ship. A press of a button and an holocam image appeared on the main screen.

He looked so little, black coat hanging off his shoulders, Hux flanked by four troopers and Opan.  

“Let me in, or the troopers with blow the doors.” 

DJ watched as he tucked at his gloves, his hard gaze never leaving the ship. 

“Unlock the doors or I will blow this ship out of the sky if you try and leave.” There was nothing in his voice through the ship’s speakers that implied it was an empty threat. 

Her hand hovered over the door release button, frozen by an indecision that was foreign to her. She knew she had no way out, but she still couldn’t bring herself to give in to him.

“DJ, open the door now. Your Emperor orders you.”

Emperor? Not my Emperor. With a sigh of resignation she pressed the door release and slumped back into the pilot’s chair and waited for him to board. 

“You are being completely ridiculous,” he snorted, pulling off his gloves as he looked around the cramped shuttle cockpit.

“Get out” she replied, half heartedly knowing he would never obey. 

Hux attempted to sit casually in the co-pilot chair, lifting the heavy weight of his greatcoat out of the way as his legs folded awkwardly.

“I...I may have been wrong to call you my …”

“Security consultant?” she didn’t try to hide the sneer in her voice, it hid the hurt. 

“Yes. I may have…. I’m sorry if I offended you”

He’d said ‘sorry’. She’d never heard that before -heard any kind of apology or statement that implied he was anything less than perfect in all he said or did. Hux had learnt the old Imperial code - ‘never complain, never explain’, and certainly never admit fault. If her blood hadn’t raged with hurt and xxx, DJ would have fallen off her seat in shock. But it wasn’t enough.

“No need to apologise, I am the hired help after all,” she kept her voice light, but cold, “I offered my services and you took the contract. Nothing more to say. Jobs start and end. It’s time to go.” she shrugged, going for nonchalance that she could only pull off if she kept her eyes on the console in front of her, pressing a button or two. Anything, but look into his eyes, searching for what she was afraid she would never find there.

“You were never…” she heard the sound of him swallowing and still couldn’t look at him, “ I don’t want you to leave. In case that has ever been unclear.”

She held back a snort of laughter, her gaze finally settling on his face, his brows furrowed in confusion and something akin to annoyance at having to talk about something so paltry, so insignificant as emotions and feelings.

Unclear?

The word tore through her mind, driving a whirlwind of anger that almost drove her out of her seat and wrapped her hands around his throat.

Oh, no how could it be unclear how he felt. After all, they had fucked hadn’t they? She’d put her life on the line for him, hadn’t she? He hadn’t taken the shot that could have ended her life? What could have made things more clear to her? For a man that gave long speeches and direct orders, Hux had never managed to say the one word that would make things actually clear.

If she opened her mouth only laughter would escape, so she stayed tight lipped and silent, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Hux looked panicked almost as he turned his attention back to the gloves he had been twisting and mauling in his grasp.

“Because….look I’m not good that this. You know what you mean to me!”

“No, Hux, I don’t,” her voice not much more than a whisper, “Because you have never told me.” she finished, the simple words capturing the reason she was sitting in a small shuttle desperate to leave.

He didn’t love her and opening herself up to that reality cut through her like the blade strapped to her side. And if she was going to bleed, she was going to cut all of it away at once she decided, excise all that she’d wanted, and longed for. She didn’t even feel bitter anymore, just tired, worn out by finding herself hurt again.

“Why don’t we tell the truth for once? You needed someone, anyone to be on your side. To want you, to care about you. Afterall all those years, it finally got too much for you. And I was there, someone who you’d once shared a night with, someone a bit different, someone ….”  she trailed off, unable to say the words that echoed in her skull.

DJ took a deep breath, eyes focused only on the blinking lights of the landing pad, the city beyond. 

She kept going before she had the wisdom to stop, “That’s what you craved, having someone who needed you, wanted you…. I was just in the right place at the right time. You reeked of need, and me? Oh, I was tired of running maybe. And cocky, and maybe I wanted to be important to someone for a change. To belong to someone even. And you, the great and powerful General Hux, making you want me? Making you want to own me?” Her throat felt tight, dry like dust, but the words had to keep coming. She had to burn it all away, make him let her go.

“And I gave you everything you needed, I even made you Supreme Leader…And I said the things you needed to hear. But, this was never about me.  So, it’s time I went, simple as that. It was a convenience, a deal that I don’t want to make any more. You have got what you want, and ….”

She was running of out power and words, just wanting it to be over. For him to leave her, to her pain, to the tears that pulled at her chest, bringing an ache behind her eyes.

No, there were words she wanted to say, to let the anger and the jealousy erupt, but she swallowed them down.

“You are being foolish,”  Hux sighed, his mouth slack as her fury was finally unleashed, eyes dark with anger.

“Foolish?” Not so much a word as a cry of anger, “You call me foolish? What, for not wanting to stay as your ….servant, whore? Maybe I could live in your chambers eh? Like Millicent. Would you like that? You could come and stroke us when you have a free moment, give us a pat? Like a good master, and we’ll purr? Is that what you want?” she hissed, close to him now, pale with fury. “I will not stand by while those women throw themselves at you. I will not be that person, the jealous, hidden secret waiting for you to come to my bed. I will not beg for your favour…. Let me go. Find your princess, make Sloane happy. Be the Emperor with his glorious Empress.”

The calm expression stuttered and then fled from his face, replaced by incomprehension. She felt the urge to laugh again, seeing Hux faced with her ferocity. He had never been made to have this sort of conversation, talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘emotions’, she would have almost pitied him if all she had wanted wasn’t him to hold her in his arms, stroke her hair and tell her it wasn’t true.

And he just sat there, and dropped his eyes to his gloves, twisting the leather till it looked like black smooth rope.

“Tell Opan to let the shuttle leave. Let me go.” a whispered plea, with her voice breaking.

“No.” he straightened, head high and face filled with a certainty she did not feel.

He placed the gloves onto the console in front of him, her eyes following them as he sat them on the smooth black surface, hands returning to his thighs, balled into fists.

“You will not presume to tell me how I feel,” he chided, like she was some junior officer who had made a small error of protocol. DJ could only look at him in stunned silence.

“You are mistaken D’ara. There are any number of women I could have had in my bed. Indeed, have, had in my bed, if I wanted to feel ‘wanted’ as you put it. You flatter yourself to think that you were the only one willing to take up that role, may I assure you that you were not. No, I wanted you…..want you” he corrected, “Regardless of your complete unsuitability, your 

perchance for drinking my entire stock of decent whiskey and disturbing the running of my ship. I want you. And not from gratitude, or lust or wanting to own you. Although, Maker I would kill any man who dared touch you. But because ever since I met you three years ago I have loved you, and it ripped me apart when you left and it would destroy me if I let you go again. So, no, I will not let you go. Because I can’t. And for that I apologise. So…. so, you will stay. You will stand at my side, as my wife. As my equal in everything. And perhaps, on occasion, you will purr when you see me at the end of a long day.” his mouth twisted into a small smile, his eyes questioning, searching hers for an answer she felt too stunned give.

“I’m not one of your soldiers to order about you know”  it was the only thing she could think of, a defensive action, as her brain tried to understand what the kriff had just happened. 

“It is not an order….it is a proposal” and the power of speech left her entirely as Hux rather awkwardly lowered himself from the co-pilot’s chair into the narrow gangway between the two, and knelt on one knee, taking her hand in his.

“What the kriffing fuck are you doing?” she stuttered, overwhelmed and unprepared.

“Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

And there were so many reasons to say no, she could have recited them all, had done as she’d walked to the landing pad, telling herself that leaving again was the only way. He was ruthless, he could be cruel. He could be loving, unkind and unthinking. He could be her everything, her beginning and her end. He could be hers.

“Yes”

 


End file.
